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THE YELLOW FACE 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


The Crimson Blind 
The Corner House 
The Weight of the Crown 


THE 

YELLOW LACE 


BY 

FRED M. WHITE 

»» 

Author of 

“ The Crimson TUnd” “ The Corner House ” 
“ The Midnight Guest etc . 


R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

18 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK 


F. V. WHITE & CO., 


LONDON 


' UEJWARY of CONORSSS 
Two CcDlei Received 


JAN 13 1908 



/fiOCf 


Copyright, 1907 
By R. F. Fenno & Company 


* 



"The Yellow Face" 


CONTENTS 


I. 

Nostalgo . 




9 

II. 

The Chopin Nocturne 




16 

III. 

The Mystery of the Strings 



19 

IV. 

The Speaking Likeness 




29 

V. 

A Vanished Clue 




39 

VI. 

Vanished I . 




46 

VII. 

No. 4, Montrose Place 




53 

VIII. 

The Chopin Fantasie . 




60 

IX. 

The Man with the Fair Moustache 


67 

X. 

What Did She Know? 




74 

XI. 

The Shadow on the Wall 




82 

XII. 

Locked In ! 




90 

XIII. 

The Parable 




97 

XIV. 

N ostalgo Again 




104 

XV. 

Lady Barmouth 




1 10 

XVI. 

The Bosom of Her Family 



1 18 

XVII. 

Which Man Was It ? . 




124 

XVIII. 

The Empty Room 




1 3 1 

XIX. 

A Broken Melody 




137 

XX. 

The Mouse in the Trap 




144 

XXI. 

A Leader of Society . 




1 5 1 

XXII. 

The Portrait 




158 

XXIII. 

Face to Face 




165 

XXIV. 

In the Square . 




i 73 


7 


8 


Contents 


XXV. 

On the Track 




179 

XXVI. 

Serena Again 




187 

XXVII. 

In the Smoking-Room 




193 

XXVIII. 

The Lamp Goes Out 




200 

XXIX. 

The Silver Lamp . 




206 

XXX. 

Bedroom 14 . 




213 

XXXI. 

A Chance Encounter 




219 

XXXII. 

Lady Barmouth’s Jewels 



226 

XXXIII. 

Gems or Paste ? . 




233 

XXXIV. 

In the Vault 




240 

XXXV. 

The Cellini Plate 




247 

XXXVI. 

A Stroke of Policy 




254 

XXXVII. 

A Pregnant Message 




262 

XXXVIII. 

The Cry in the Night 




269 

XXXIX. 

Preparing the Way 




276 

XL. 

The Magician Speaks 




283 

XLI. 

The Worm Turns 




290 

XLII. 

A Piece of Music 




297 

XLIII. 

The Trap is Baited 




304 

XLIV. 

The Substitute 




3 ii 

XLV. 

Caught I 




vw 

00 

XLVI. 

The Music Stops . 




325 

XLVII. 

“ A Woman Scorned ” 




332 

XLVIII. 

The Proof of the Camera 



339 

XLIX. 

Proof Positive . 




346 

L. 

On the Brink 




353 

LI. 

Against the World 




360 

LI I. 

The End of it All 




36 7 


THE YELLOW FACE 



THE YELLOW FACE 


CHAPTER I 

NOSTALGO 

The flickering firelight fell upon the girl’s pretty, 
thoughtful face ; her violet eyes looked like deep lakes in 
it. She stood with one small foot tapping the polished 
brass rail of the fender. Claire Helmsley was accounted 
fortunate by her friends, for she was pretty and rich, and 
as popular as she was good-looking. 

The young man by her side, who stood looking moodily 
into the heart of the ship-log fire, was also popular and 
good-looking, but Jack Masefield was anything but rich. 
He had all the brain and all the daring ambition that 
makes for success, but he was poor and struggling yet, and 
the briefs that he dreamed of at the Bar had not come. 

But he was not thinking of the Bar now as he stood by 
Claire Helmsley’s side. They were both in evening dress, 
and obviously waiting for dinner. Jack’s arm was around 
Claire’s slender waist, and her head rested on his shoulder, 
so that by looking up she could just see the shadow on his 
clean-cut face. Though the pressure of his arm was strong 
and tender, he seemed as if he had forgotten all about the 
presence of the girl. 

“Why so silent?” the girl said. “What are you 
thinking about, Jack?” 

“Well, I was thinking about you, dearest,” Jack re- 
plied. “About you and myself. Also of your guardian, 
Anstruther. I was wondering why he asks me so often 
and leaves us so much together when he has not the slight- 
est intention of letting me marry you.” 

The girl colored slightly. The expression in her violet 
eyes was one of pain. 


9 


10 


The Yellow Face 


“ You have never asked my guardian,” she said. “ We 
have been engaged now for over six months, Jack, and 
at your request I have kept the thing a dead secret. Why 
should we keep the matter a secret ? You are certain to 
get on in your profession, and you would do no worse if 
the world knew that you had a rich wife. My guardian 
is kindness itself. He has never thwarted me in a single 
wish. He would not be likely to try and cross my life’s 
happiness.” 

Jack Masefield made no reply for a moment. It was 
perhaps a singular prejudice on his part, but he did not 
like the brilliant and volatile Dr. Spencer Anstruther, who 
was Claire’s guardian. He would have found it impos- 
sible to account for this feeling, but there it was. 

“My guardian has plenty of money of his own,” Claire 
said, as if reading his thoughts. 

“ There you are mistaken,” Jack replied. “ This is a 
fine old house, filled with beautiful old things. Anstruther 
goes everywhere ; he is a favorite in the best society. Men 
of letters say he is one of the finest talkers in the world. 
But I happen to know that he has very little money, for a 
lawyer told me so. That being so, the £ 2,000 a year you 
pay him till you marry or come of age is decidedly a thing 
to take care of. On the whole, dearest, we had better go 
on as we are.” 

Claire had a smile for her lover’s prejudices. Personally 
she saw nothing amiss with her guardian. She crossed 
over to the window, the blinds of which had not yet been 
drawn, and looked out. She looked across the old-fash- 
ioned garden in front of the house to the street beyond, 
where a few passengers straggled along. On the far side 
of the road stood an electric standard holding a flaring 
lamp aloft. The house opposite was being refaced, so 
that it was masked in a high scaffold. 

As was the custom in London, the scaffolding had been 
let out to some enterprising bill-posting company. It was 
a mass of gaudy sheets and placards puffing a variety of 
different kinds of wares. In the centre, bordered by a 
deep band of black, was one solitary yellow face with dark 


Nostalgo 1 1 

hair and starting eyes. At the base was the single word 
4 4 Nostalgo." 

An extraordinary vivid and striking piece of work for 
a poster. The face was strong and yet evil, the eyes were 
full of a devilish malignity, yet there was a kind of laugh 
in them too. Artists spoke freely of the Nostalgo poster as 
a work of positive genius, yet nobody could name the 
author of it. Nobody knew what it meant, what it fore- 
shadowed. For two months now the thing had been one 
of the sensations of London. The cheap Press had built 
up legends round that diabolically clever poster ; the head 
had been dragged into a story. The firm who posted 
Nostalgo professed to know nothing as to its inner mean- 
ing. It had become a catchword ; actors on the variety 
stage made jokes about it. But still that devilish yellow 
face stared down at London with the malignant smile in 
the starting eyes. 

“ Jack, they have put up a fresh 1 Nostalgo ’ poster on 
the hoarding opposite," Claire said. “ I wish they hadn’t. 
That face frightens me. It reminds me of somebody." 

“So it does me," Jack replied, with sudden boldness. 
“ It reminds me of your guardian." 

Claire smiled at the suggestion. The guardian was a 
large, florid man, well-groomed and exquisitely clean. 
And yet as Jack spoke the yellow face opposite seemed to 
change, and in some way the illusion was complete. It 
was only for an instant, and then the starting eyes and the 
queer smile that London knew so well were back again. 

“ You make me shudder," Claire said in a half-fright- 
ened way. “ I should never have thought of that. But as 
you spoke the face seemed to change. I could see my 
guardian dimly behind it. Jack, am I suddenly growing 
nervous or fanciful ? The thing is absurd." 

“ Not a bit of it," Jack said stoutly. “ The likeness is 
there. It may be a weird caricature, but I can see it quite 
plainly. Don’t you recall how Anstruther breaks out into 
yellow patches when he is excited or angry ? I tell you I 
hate that man. I may be nonsensical, but " 

Jack paced up and down the room as if lost in thought. 


12 


The Yellow Face 


The light was shining on the face on the hoarding — 
it seemed to look at him with Spencer Anstruther’s 
eyes. 

“ There is something wrong in this house,” he said. 
“ I feel it. You may laugh at me, you may say that I am 
talking nonsense, but there it is. The strange people who 
come here ” 

“ Sent by the police mainly. Don’t forget that my 
guardian is one of the greatest criminologists of our time. 
There is no man in London who can trace the motive of a 
crime quicker than Mr. Anstruther. There was that mar- 
velous case of those missing children, for instance ” 

“ Oh, I know,” Jack said, with some suggestion of im- 
patience in his voice. “ And yet, if you don’t mind, we 
will say nothing of our engagement at present.” 

Claire contested the point no longer. After all she was 
very happy as things stood. She had plenty of chances 
of meeting her lover, and Mr. Anstruther seemed to be 
altogether too wrapped up in his scientific studies to notice 
what was going on under his very eyes. He came into the 
room at the same moment humming a fragment of some 
popular opera. 

There was nothing whatever about the man to justify 
Jack Masefield’s opinions. Spencer Anstruther was calcu- 
lated to attract attention anywhere. The man was tall and 
well set up, he had a fine commanding face softened by a 
tolerant and benign expression. People looked after him 
as he walked down the street and wondered which popular 
statesman he was. In society Anstruther was decidedly 
welcome, amongst men of learning he was a familiar figure. 
His scientific knowledge was great, certain publications of 
his were regarded in the light of text-books. Altogether 
he was a man to cultivate. 

“I am afraid that I am late, young people,” he said in 
a smooth, polished voice. “I hope you have been able 
to amuse yourselves together in my absence. You look 
moody, Jack. Don’t those briefs come in as freely as you 
would like ? Or have you been quarreling ? ’ ’ 

“ No, sir,” Jack replied. “ We never quarrel ; we are 


Nostalgo 13 

too good friends for that. We have not the excuse in that 
way that lovers are supposed to possess.” 

“ We have been studying that awful poster,” Claire said. 
“ I wish somebody would take it away. Jack is always 
seeing some likeness in it. He says that you ” 

The girl paused in some confusion. Anstruther smiled 
as he put up his glasses. 

“ It is a complex face,” he said. “ Whose features 
does it remind you of just now, Jack? ” 

“ Yours,” Jack said boldly. He flashed the word out 
suddenly. Half to himself he wondered why he always 
felt a wild desire to quarrel with this man. “ I hope you 
won’t be offended, sir, but I can see a grotesque likeness 
to you in the famous repellent Nostalgo.” 

Claire looked up in some alarm. She was wondering 
how her guardian would take it. The log fire in the grate 
shot up suddenly and illuminated Anstruther’ s face. Per- 
haps it was the quick flare that played a trick on Claire’s 
fancy, for it seemed to her that suddenly Anstruther’s face 
was convulsed with rage. The benign pink expression had 
gone, the features were dark with passion, the fine speak- 
ing eyes grew black with malignant hatred. Claire could 
see the hands of the man clenched so hard that the 
knuckles stood out white as chalk. And there with it all 
was the likeness to Nostalgo that Jack had so boldly al- 
luded to. The fire dropped and spurted again, and when 
it rose for the second time the face of Spencer Anstruther 
was smooth and smiling. 

Claire passed her handkerchief across her eyes to con- 
centrate the picture of fiendish passion that she had seen. 
Was it possible that imagination had played some trick on 
her? And yet the picture was as vivid as a landscape 
picked out and fixed upon the retina by a flash of light- 
ning on a dark night. The girl turned away and hid her 
white face. 

“ I should like to meet the artist who drew that face,” 
Anstruther said, with a smile. “ One thing I am quite 
certain of — it is not the work of an Englishman. Well, 
it has found London something to talk about, and the ad- 


H 


The Yellow Face 


vertisement is a very clever one. I dare say before long 
we shall discover that it is exploited in the interest of 
somebody’s soap.” 

“I am inclined to favor the view that Nostalgo is 
something novel in the way of a thought-reader or a 
spiritualist,” Jack said. “It seems to me ” 

The dining-room door was thrown open by a woman 
servant, who announced that dinner was served. They 
passed across the hall into a large dark-walled room, the 
solitary light of which was afforded by a pair of handsome 
candelabra on the table. There were not many flowers, 
but they were all blood red, with a background of shiny, 
metallic green. The woman who waited passed from one 
plate to another without making the slightest sign. As 
she came into the rays of the shaded candles from time to 
time Jack glanced at her curiously. She was dressed in 
sombre, lustreless black, with no white showing at all. 
There was no cap on her head — nothing but a tangle of 
raven-black hair. Her brows were black and hairy, her 
skin as dark, so that her faded eyes were in striking con- 
trast to her swarthy appearance. Her hands were very 
strong and capable, the mouth firm to the verge of cruelty. 
And yet there was something subdued, something beaten 
about the woman, as if she had been taken in a wild state 
and tamed. Anstruther seldom addressed an order to her 
in words ; a motion of the hand, the raising of an eyelid 
seemed to be sufficient for those pale, tired eyes, which 
somehow never for one instant relaxed their vigilance. 

The woman was a mystery of the house ; she seemed 
to be entirely dominated by her master’s will. And yet 
there were strength and passion there, Jack felt certain. 
The fanatic only slumbered. A pansy fell from one of 
the flower vases, and Jack started out his hand to replace 
it. 

“ Did you ever see the evil face in the heart of a pansy 
blossom ? ” he asked, for there was a pause in the con- 
versation. “It is a demon face — and familiar too. Miss 
Helmsley, whose face does this saffron heart of the pansy 
remind you of ? ” 


Nostalgo 15 

Claire took the pansy from Jack’s hand and studied it 
with a frown on her pretty face. 

“ Why, of course,” she cried. “I see what you mean. 
It is Nostalgo, the man with the yellow face.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE CHOPIN NOCTURNE 

Claire gave the desired assurance, and rose from the 
table. She would have Jack’s coffee saved for him in the 
drawing-room, she said. Anstruther lit a cigarette, and 
began to talk of crime. Crime and criminals had a fine 
fascination for him. Scotland Yard offered valuable in- 
spiration for his new book on the criminal instinct, and in 
return he had been in a position to give the officials 
yonder one or two useful hints. The case he had on hand 
just now was a most fascinating one, but, of course, his 
lips were sealed for the present. Jack forgot his dislike in 
the fascination of the present. 

“ Stay here and finish your cigar,” Anstruther said as 
he rose and pitched his cigarette into the fire. “I’ll go 
into my study and work this thing out with the aid of my 
violin. I may be an hour or so, or I may be longer. If 
I have finished before eleven o’clock I’ll come up with my 
fiddle, and we’ll get Claire to play. If you require any 
more claret you can ring the bell.” 

Jack sat there for a time smoking and thinking matters 
over. Presently, from the study beyond, came the sound 
of music. Really, Anstruther was a wonderful man — he 
seemed able to do anything. He was not perhaps a great 
performer on the violin — his playing was a little too me- 
chanical, and seemed to lack soul — but the execution was 
brilliant enough. 

Jack opened his cigarette case only to find that it was 
empty. There was a fresh supply in the pocket of his 
overcoat, which was hanging in the hall. He would be 
just in time for one more, and then he would join Claire 
in the drawing-room. The hall light had been turned 
low, so that, as Jack stood in the vestibule fumbling in his 

16 


The Chopin Nocturne 17 

coat pocket, he was not visible, though he could see what 
was going on in the hall behind him. 

There was a spot of light at the head of the staircase. 
Somebody was standing there looking down into the hall 
— somebody in a rough jacket buttoned to the throat and 
wearing a pair of rubber-soled shoes, for the intruder made 
not the slightest noise. Jack wondered if some impudent 
burglar was raiding the house at this hour. If so, he 
would get a warm reception presently. Jack stood there 
as the figure came down the stairs and turned along a cor- 
ridor to the left of the drawing-room. But there was no 
challenge and no fight, for the simple reason that in the 
hall light, as the stranger passed, Jack recognized the face 
of Spencer Anstruther. There was no doubt about it ; 
there was no possibility of a mistake here. 

Inside the study the music once more began. Very 
gently Jack tried the handle of the door, but it was locked. 
Under ordinary circumstances this would have excited no 
suspicion ; perhaps there was another way into the room 
by way of the corridor. But if so that did not explain 
why Anstruther was creeping about his own house in the 
semblance of a burglar, and wearing rubber-soled shoes. 

There was something creepy about the whole business. 
Jack returned to the vestibule again, and from there he 
passed into the garden. The study was at the side of the 
house, and a belt of shrubs outside afforded a pretty good 
cover. There was the study under with the blinds down 
and a strong light inside. Jack noted that it was a 
French window, a window frequently used, because the 
stone step outside had been worn by the pressing of many 
feet. 

The smooth melody of Chopin was playing on inside. 
Jack stooped down to where he could see the lace flowers 
on the blind, and looked into the room. There was a 
little slit in the blind where the sun had worn it, and by 
this slit the whole of the room could be seen. The music 
had softened down to a piano passage taken very slowly. 
But Jack was not thinking of the music now at all, though 
the strains were soothing and flowing enough. 


i8 


The Yellow Face 


He rubbed his eyes to make sure that they did not de- 
ceive him. No, the room was plain enough, so was the 
sound of the music. And with it all the room was abso- 
lutely empty / 


CHAPTER III 


THE MYSTERY OF THE STRINGS 

It was the most extraordinary thing in the world. Be- 
yond question the room was absolutely empty. Jack could 
see to the far side ; he noted the pictures and the flowers 
and the vases on the mantelpiece. His view was naturally 
narrowed by a small spyhole, but there was no portion of 
the room hidden from him, though he could not quite see 
the whole of it at one time. 

The music was proceeding quite smoothly, though with 
pauses now and again. It was followed now and then by 
what sounded like subdued applause. 

Jack stepped back from the window. He wanted to 
make certain that he had not mistaken the room. No, the 
sounds of music came from the study right enough. At 
the risk of being discovered he crept back into the house 
again and tried the study door. It was locked, and what 
was more, the key was in the lock, as the application of an 
eye testified. 

And the music was proceeding quite swiftly again. The 
mystery was absolutely maddening. Jack wondered if 
there was some cabinet in the study hidden from view 
where the player had taken up his stand. At any rate 
somebody was playing Chopin’s music — playing it very 
well. There was no magic about the thing. 

The hall of the house was very quiet, nobody seemed 
to be about. Occasionally there came the sound of mirth 
from the servants’ hall, but nothing more. Fully deter- 
mined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Jack returned 
to the garden again. Once more his eye was glued to 
the slit in the blind. He could make nobody out in the 
room. There was little fear of his being detected, because 
a belt of shrubs hid the window from the road. 

Without the slightest warning a figure appeared in the 
19 


20 


The Yellow Face 


room. It was impossible to see where she came from, 
but of necessity she must have entered by the door. Jack 
was a little uncertain on that head, for his glance was not 
directed towards the door for the moment. 

He saw the figure of a woman, young and exceedingly 
well dressed. She was wearing an evening gown of white 
satin that showed up the creamy pallor of her skin, for her 
neck and shoulders were bare. The neck was rather thin, 
Jack noted, and the shoulders more inclined to muscle 
than beauty. For a young girl it struck Jack that the 
upper part of her body looked old. But the face was 
dark and wholesome, and against the deep eyes and 
swarthy complexion the girl’s hair was dazzling. It was 
beautiful, rippling hair, changing color as the light flashed 
upon it. 

“ Well, this is a bit of an adventure,” the watcher told 
himself. “But where’s the person in the room who let 
the young lady in? Somebody must have let her in, 
because the door was locked and the key on the inside. 
I saw it there, so I can swear to that fact. But who is 
she?” 

There were many answers to the problem, for Spencer 
Anstruther was a man who had countless strange visitors. 
His vast knowledge of crime and the ramifications of 
human depravity brought him in contact with large 
numbers of people. Men and women in distress often 
came to him, and they came in increasing numbers since 
Anstruther had got the better of a gang of scoundrels in 
a recent famous blackmailing case. Sometimes these 
people came on their own initiative, sometimes they were 
sent by the police. But Anstruther never said anything 
about them. He looked upon himself as a confidential 
agent. Claire could have told of many curious visitors at 
all hours, though Anstruther never so much as alluded to 
them afterwards. 

But this girl did not look in the least like anybody in 
trouble. Her dark features were almost expressionless ; 
there was no display of violent emotions there. Her gaze 
slowly wandered round the room as if looking for some- 


21 


The Mystery of the Strings 

thing ; she had much the aspect of a pupil whose atten- 
tion is called to a blackboard by a master. As Jack 
watched, it seemed to him that he had seen this girl be- 
fore. He could not recollect anybody in the least like 
her ; that contrast of dark skin and fair hair was striking 
enough to impress itself upon the most careless mind, and 
yet Jack could not give the face a name. He could not 
permit himself to believe that he had made a mistake. 
He knew perfectly well that the expressionless features 
were quite familiar to him. 

The girl stood for some little time, as if waiting for her 
lesson. Jack’s eyes were glued so closely upon her that 
he did not notice the coming of another person — a man 
this time. He was a young man, with sleek, well-brushed 
brown hair, and dark, well-groomed moustache turned up 
after the fashion affected by the German Emperor. The 
man was perfectly well appointed, his evening dress and 
white waistcoat were faultless. His face was strong, but 
it did not convey anything intellectual. There were scores 
of such men to be seen any day during the London season, 
all groomed the same, all apparently finished in the same 
machine. 

The man bowed and smiled to the lady, and she bowed 
and smiled in return. It was rather a graceful bow ; it 
seemed to Jack that she looked at her companion to see 
if it were quite correct. Then the two proceeded to talk 
in dumb show, partly by signs and partly by fingers. The 
mystery was getting deeper — one of these two was a deaf 
mute, perhaps both of them. Was this one of Anstruther’s 
cases, or did it possess a far deeper significance ? 

The solution was beyond Jack Masefield. He might 
have been on the track of a mystery, and on the other 
hand he might merely be doing a little vulgar eaves- 
dropping. If it was the latter, and Anstruther found him 
out, he need not hope to visit Claire at home any more. 
Anstruther was most particular about these things, as Jack 
knew ; but he set his teeth together and decided to take 
the risk. He felt pretty sure that there was something 
here that touched the household deeply. 


22 


The Yellow Face 


He turned just for the moment, with an idea that some- 
body was behind him. But the strip of lawn was quite 
clear. Jack could see through the belt of trees to the 
street again beyond, with its great arc light flaring on 
the yellow face of the mysterious Nostalgo and his starting, 
half-laughing eyes. That weird face seemed to form a 
fitting background to the room mystery. 

But Jack had his eyes to the slit in the blind again. 
Inside the pantomime in show was still going on. The 
girl seemed to be getting a lesson of some kind, and her 
tutor appeared to be pleased, for he smiled and clapped 
his hands from time to time. Then he took out his watch 
and consulted it with a frown. As he glanced up the girl 
crossed the room to the mantelpiece and opened the face 
of the clock. With a quick movement she put it back 
half-an-hour. 

The man in the faultless evening dress nodded approval. 
There was a little pause before he approached the window 
and stood so that his shadow was picked out clean against 
the strong light of the room. Then he rapidly signaled 
with his arm. One arm went up, there was a noise of 
rings and a flutter of drapery, and then a heavy curtain 
was jerked over the window, and Jack could see no more. 
Try as he would, no ray of light could he make out. It 
was as if the lights had been switched off, leaving the room 
in utter darkness. 

What on earth did it all mean? Beyond doubt the 
young man in evening dress had signaled to somebody 
outside when he stood close against the window and 
raised his arm. Jack congratulated himself on the fact 
that the slit in the blind was low down, so that he had 
not to stand against the light. He slipped into the belt of 
shrubs and watched for a moment, but no further sign came. 

What were those people inside going to do ? The solu- 
tion flashed upon Jack instantly. They had not come 
there so perfectly dressed for the mere sake of seeing 
Spencer Anstruther. They had not been spending the 
evening anywhere, dining and that kind of thing before- 
hand, for they looked too spruce and fresh for that. The 


2 3 


The Mystery of the Strings 

woman’s toilette in particular had evidently been just 
donned, as if fresh from the hands of her maid. And she 
had put the clock back half-an-hour. 

“They are going somewhere in half-an-hour,” Jack de- 
cided. “ Hang me if I don’t follow them. By the right 
time it is half-past ten. Anstruther said he should not 
come up if he failed to get his business finished before 
eleven, at which time he will expect me to go. I’ll go up 
to the drawing-room and talk to Claire for a little time 
just to avert suspicion.” 

He crept back into the house without being seen, he 
finished his claret, and dropped the stump of his cigarette 
on to his dessert plate. As he made his way up the stairs 
the music began again. That music was not the least 
maddening part of the mystery. 

“What a time you have been,” Claire said as she 
tossed her book aside. “All by yourself down there! 
Really, Jack, you modern young men are so cold-blooded 
that ” 

“I’m not so far as you are concerned, dearest,” Jack, 
said as he kissed the girl. “I had something to do; I 
was working out a case that puzzled me.” 

‘ 1 A case in some way connected with the law, I sup- 
pose?” Claire asked. 

“Well, yes,” Jack replied. He quite believed that the 
case was connected with the law. “I begin to see my 
way to its solution. I suppose there is not the slightest 
chance of your guardian coming up to-night? ” 

Claire replied that it did not look like it. Evidently the 
solution of the music problem was not an easy one, for the 
violin was going again as if it had only just begun. 

“ It makes me feel creepy,” Claire exclaimed. “ Fancy 
the idea of tracking a criminal by means of divine melody 
like that ! Jack, don’t you notice something strange 
about it ? ” 

“ I should say that I do,” Jack said. “ Why, the whole 
thing — really, I beg your pardon, darling. I — I was 
thinking about something else. It was the case I alluded 
to just now.” 


24 


The Yellow Face 


“My dear boy, you are very strange in your manner 
to-night,” Claire said. “You look pale and distracted. 
Trust the eyes of love to see anything like that. You 
haven’t bad news for me, Jack?” 

Masefield forced a smile to his lips. It was hard work 
to maintain his ordinary manner in the face of the strange 
scene that he had witnessed that night. 

“I have certainly heard no news since dinner time,” he 
said. “ What did you expect me to say ? ” 

“ I thought that perhaps you had mentioned me to my 
guardian ; that you had changed your mind, and told him 
that you and I were going to be married some time.” 

“ No, your name was never mentioned, dearest. An- 
struther was full of his case and gave me no opportunity. 
He went off directly he had finished his tobacco. As a 
matter of fact, Claire, I am more resolved than ever to say 
nothing about our engagement to Mr. Anstruther.” 

“It is very strange that you mistrust him like that, 
Jack.” 

“ Perhaps it is, little woman. Call it instinct, if you 
like. I know that women are supposed to hold the monop- 
oly of that illogical faculty. They dislike a man or a 
woman without being able to say why, and in the course 
of time that man or woman turns out to be a villain. 
There is no denying the fact that I feel the same way 
towards your guardian. I am convinced that once he 
knows the truth you will be in danger. I said before that 
he is a poor man, and the enjoyment of your ^2,000 
during the time ” 

“ My dear Jack, you are perfectly horrid,” Claire mur- 
mured. “ If I were a nervous girl you would frighten me. 
As it is, I feel certain that you are utterly wrong. My 
guardian is one of the most delightful of men. If he were 
not, plenty of clever people would have found it out. 
And, besides, why do so many unfortunate people come to 
him to advise them, which he does with great trouble to 
himself and no hope of reward ? ’ ’ 

Jack admitted that perhaps he was wrong. And he 
had no desire either to frighten Claire. He had not the 


The Mystery of the Strings 2J 

slightest intention of telling her what he had discovered 
that night. 

“Let us be less personal,” he said. “ What was the 
strange thing that you noticed about your guardian’s 
playing ? ” 

“That it is so much better than usual,” Claire said. 
“ There seemed more passion and feeling in the music. 
My guardian is a brilliant violin player, but I have not 
hitherto noticed much feeling in his style. Now, listen to 
the thing that he is playing at present.” 

“Chopin’s Fantasie in F,” Jack muttered. “ I know 
it very well indeed. It is a favorite of mine.” 

There was certainly plenty of expression and feeling in 
the music. Jack was bound to admit that. The fantasie 
came to an end with a crash of two chords, and Claire 
clapped her hands. 

“ Beautiful ! ” she cried. “ I must really compliment 
my guardian on the improvement in his style. You are 
not going already, Jack ? It’s not quite eleven yet.” 

“I’m very sorry, dear, but I have that case to look into 
to-night,” Jack said, with perfect truth. He saw that the 
hands of the big clock on the mantelpiece were creeping 
on to the hour. “ Anstruther won’t come up to-night ; he 
said he should be here by eleven if he were. And he gave 
me a hint not to stay later. I shall see you at the Warings’ 
to-morrow night. Good-night, darling.” 

Claire put up her red lips to be kissed. She would have 
seen Jack to the door, but he pointed out that the night 
was chilly and Claire’s dress thin. Neither would he have 
the butler summoned. His coat and hat were in the hall, 
and he would get them himself. A moment or two later 
and he was standing in the garden behind the strip of 
shrubs. He was quite free to act now ; he had nobody in 
the way. As he stood there, a distant church clock 
boomed the hour of eleven. 

“Now we shall see what we shall see,” Jack muttered. 
“I’m going to find whether there is a mystery of the 
house or whether these people are merely Anstruther’s 
clients. Oh!” 


26 


The Yellow Face 


As he spoke the dark curtain over the study window 
was pulled back, and the figure of the young man in the 
evening dress was clean cut against the light. Then a 
black arm pulled for the catch of the window, and the 
young man, pushing the blind aside, came out. He was 
wearing an overcoat now, and a tall hat. He seemed to 
be waiting for somebody. 

Then the figure of the dark-faced, fair-haired girl came 
out. She was cloaked from head to foot in a blue wrap 
trimmed with feathers; her fair hair was not covered. No 
word was spoken, but Jack could see that they were con- 
versing still by signs. 

The watcher wondered if he had time to get inside the 
room. But that little idea was dismissed at the outset, for 
the young man pushed the window to carefully and the 
latch clicked. It was quite evident that the long sash 
closed with a spring lock, w r hich was a most’ unusual thing 
for French windows to do. As the strange pair went down 
the side path Jack stepped into the open. He wanted to 
assure himself as to the window being fastened. He pulled 
at it hard, but it did not yield. At the same moment 
from the window of the room came a strange, brilliant 
crash of music. Yet that room was absolutely empty, as 
Jack would have been prepared to swear in any court of 
England. 

“ I’ll wake up either from a dream or in a lunatic asylum 
presently,” he muttered. “ And now for those other peo- 
ple. Good thing they had no idea of being followed.” 

Jack was in the road now, and taking his way through 
the quiet nest of squares between Bloomsbury and Regent’s 
Park. He could see his quarry a hundred yards or so 
before him ; there was nobody else, and there was not the 
slightest chance of those in front being lost. A horse’s 
hoof clicked on the wood pavement as a well-appointed 
hansom passed the tracker. Then he saw the hansom pull 
up by the curb and the deaf mutes in front jump in, as if 
the whole thing had been arranged, and drive off. 

The thing was so sudden and unexpected that Jack was 
nonplused for a moment. There was no chance of follow- 


2 7 


The Mystery of the Strings 

ing these people, for there probably was not another han- 
som within half-a-mile of the spot. Jack stood hesitating 
in the silence of the road ; he could hear the steady flick- 
flack of the horse’s hoofs as the rubber-tired hansom 
hurried on, and then suddenly the horse’s hoofs stopped. 
They had not died out in the distance ; they had merely 
stopped. 

Jack hurried forward ; he had not given up all hope yet. 
He might overtake the hansom and by good luck meet an 
empty one going towards the Strand. As he turned a 
corner, he saw to his surprise the figure of the young man 
in evening dress come silently towards him on the other 
side of the road. Then the stranger crossed the road and 
turned down the far side of the square as if he were going 
to complete the circuit and join his cab again. As the 
man vanished Jack heard a thudding sound, followed by a 
sound like the tearing of stiff paper, like the rattle of peas 
on a drum, a queer stifled cry, and then silence. On the 
impulse of the moment, Jack turned and followed. 

At the angle stood a row of houses, some of them being 
repaired. Jack heard somebody speak to somebody else a 
little way down the road. He looked across at the oppo- 
site houses to see that they were in scaffolding and that 
they were plastered with bills. A little way above the 
ground in front of the centre house being repaired was one 
of the repulsive, clever Nostalgo posters with the yellow 
face looking out. 

But there was something else lying there at full length 
on the pavement, the body of a man with his face up to 
the stars. With a little cry Jack crossed the road. Almost 
instantly a policeman stood by his side. 

“ Drunk,” he said. “A gentleman who’s just gone 
down the road told me a man was lying drunk on the 
pavement. My word, sir, but he’s got the complaint 
pretty bad.” 

“ He has,” Jack said, with a catch in his voice. “ The 
man isn’t drunk ; he’s dead. He’s been murdered. Shot 
through the head and breast. Show your lantern here, 
officer.” 


28 


The Yellow Face 


The officer flashed the strong, searching rays on the 
face of the dead man. As he did so he gave a cry, and 
pointed to the hoarding behind him with a finger that 
shook a little. 

“Dead, sir, and murdered, beyond doubt,” he said. 
“ But that’s not the strangest part of it. Look at his face 
and the expression of his eyes ; look at the yellow face 
and ” 

“Good heaven ! ” Jack cried. “ The yellow face, the 
face of the diabolical poster behind you. As I am a living 
man, we have found Nostalgo in the flesh.” 

The dead man grinned up, the poster grinned down. 
And the face of the dead and the face in the print were 
exactly the same ! 


CHAPTER IV 


THE SPEAKING LIKENESS 

Masefield looked at the figure on the pavement in a 
dazed kind of way. Beyond all question there lay the em- 
bodiment of the famous Nostalgo poster. London had 
been discussing the mystery of the poster for weeks 
already. The amazing hideous cleverness of it had struck 
the popular imagination, the artistic side of it had ap- 
pealed to those of culture. Nobody had the least idea 
what it was intended to convey. Every daily paper prom- 
ising a correct solution on a certain day would have added 
tremendously to its circulation. 

Then there had been those who had declared that the 
poster was a portrait ; they had held that no artist could 
imagine a face quite like that. And here was dread con- 
firmation of the theory. Absolutely the poster and the 
dead man were identical. The same long, thin nose, the 
same starting eyes, the same suggestion of diabolical cun- 
ning in the smile. 

In the poster Nostalgo wore a turn-down collar and a 
loosely-knotted red tie. It was the same with the dead 
man on the pavement. As to the rest, his dress was con- 
ventional enough — a frock coat and gray trousers, a tall 
silk hat which had rolled into the road. 

“Don’t you think that you had better search his 
pockets?” Jack suggested. 

The constable replied that it was not a bad idea. But 
a close examination produced no definite result. There 
were no papers on the body, nothing beyond a handful of 
money — gold and silver and coppers all mixed up together 
in the trousers pocket. There was not even a watch. 

“This game’s beyond me,” the officer muttered, as he 
blew his whistle. “We must get this poor chap conveyed 
to the police station. Foreigner, ain’t he ? ” 

29 


3 ° 


The Yellow Face 


But Jack could not say. The sweeping, coarse black 
hair pushed back from the bulging forehead, and the 
yellow, guinea-colored face suggested the Orient. But 
the lips were thin like the nose, and these might have 
belonged to some Spanish hidalgo. It was impossible to 
decide. 

“You were close by,” the policeman said. “Didn’t 
you see anything, sir? ” 

“Nothing whatever,” said Jack. “I was just passing 
along on the side of the square at right angles with this 
spot. I certainly saw a young man come along, but I 
didn’t notice him much. I expect he was the young man 
who told you that a ‘drunk ’ awaited you here.” 

“I expect he was, sir; young man with his moustache 
turned up like the German Emperor’s.” 

Jack started, but said nothing. It was not for him 
to say anything of the strange sight that he had seen in 
Spencer Anstruther’s study. The young man in question 
had left his hansom; probably he had come back for 
something forgotten ; therefore, on the whole, Jack felt 
that he could not in any way connect him with this 
mystery. 

And yet Spencer Anstruther’s young friend must have 
been close by at the very moment the murder was com- 
mitted. It seemed impossible to believe that he had not 
heard that choking cry, and that strange noise like the 
tearing of calico or the scatter of peas on a tray. But, 
on the other hand, the murderec^man had been shot, and 
shooting implies noise. Certainly Jack had heard nothing 
that in any way would be connected with the firing of a 
revolver. 

And yet there was that tearing sound, and the strange 
fact that the Nostalgo of the poster had tears in him in 
exactly the same place as the real man who had been 
wounded. There was a plot calculated to puzzle Spencer 
Anstruther himself, and Jack said so aloud. 

“I don’t think as even he’d guess this,” the policeman 
said. “ Friend of yours by any chance, sir ? ” 

“I had not left his house five minutes before I found 


The Speaking Likeness 31 

that body,” Jack said. “ If you like, I will go back and 
bring Mr. Spencer Anstruther here.” 

Here was a chance to get at the other business, the 
mystery of the strange music. It was a legitimate errand 
enough, but the policeman shook his head. He did not 
want to take anything so important upon his own shoulders, 
his inspector being “down on that kind of thing.” Two 
constables with the ambulance came at length. They asked 
no questions, but hoisted the body up and turned immedi- 
ately in the direction of Shannon Street police station. 

“I think you had better come along, sir,” the first po- 
liceman suggested to Jack. “It’s just possible that the 
inspector may want to ask you a few questions.” 

Masefield followed. He smiled just a little as he noted the 
speaker’s tone. If not exactly in custody, he was at least 
expected to give a good account of himself. To his great 
relief he found the inspector not in the least disposed to as- 
sume the official manner; on the contrary, he seemed 
rather a timid man, though his eyes were steady enough. 

“I have told you everything, sir,” Jack said at length. 
“ I only wish it might have been more. If there is any 

further way in which I can be of assistance to you ’ ’ 

“ You are very good, sir,” the inspector said. “What 
we have to do now is to push the matter forward before the 
scent gets cold. It is very imperative that we discover 
who this man is. The first person to apply to is the firm 
of advertising contractors who posted those bills. Did 
anybody happen to notice the firm whose hoarding the 
deceased man was found against? ” 

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Jack said, as the officer 
shook his head. “Not that that is a sure find for you, 
Mr. Inspector, seeing that those bills appeared on the 
hoardings of all the bill-posting firms in London. Still, 
they may have emanated in the first place from one firm, 
and perhaps that firm was Freshcombe & Co.” 

“ That being the name on the top of the hoarding we 
are speaking of?” the inspector asked. “You have a 
keen eye for detail, sir ; it was very smart of you to notice 
that.” 


3 2 


The Yellow Face 


“ Not at all ; it was almost an accident. The mere fact 
of finding the prototype of the famous Nostalgo poster was 
sufficiently startling to brace all one’s faculties. In glanc- 
ing at the hoarding I saw the name of Freshcombe & Co. 
on the top. The name was impressed upon my memory by 
the fact that quite recently I appeared for Freshcombe & 
Co. in an action they brought against a rival firm for dam- 
ages. That is why I have the name so exact.” 

The inspector smiled with the air of a man who is well 
pleased with himself. In that case Mr. Masefield prac- 
tically knew the head of Freshcombe & Co., and where he 
lived. In that event the inspector proposed to go direct 
to the gentleman in question and ask for a few partic- 
ulars. 

“There I can help you again,” Jack said. “I had 
several interviews with Mr. Freshcombe through his so- 
licitor, and one of them took place in Mr. Freshcombe’s 
own house in Regent’s Park Crescent.” 

The inspector waited to hear no more. One of his men 
would call a cab, and perhaps Mr. Masefield would be 
good enough to go as far as Regent’s Park Crescent and 
smooth the way. It was getting late now, but Jack had 
no objection. He was keenly interested in this mystery, 
and he must get to the bottom of it if he could. He had 
a few questions to ask as the cab rolled away, but none of 
them struck the inspector as being to the point. But Jack 
knew better. 

Fortunately Mr. Freshcombe had not gone to bed, 
though the house was in darkness. The stout little pros- 
perous-looking man of business started as he caught sight 
of the inspector’s uniform. Something in connection with 
burglary rose uppermost in his mind as he asked his 
visitors’ business. 

“ I hope there is nothing wrong,” he stammered. “ Ah, 
how do you do, Mr. Masefield ? Will you gentlemen be 
so good as to step inside. There is a fire in the dining- 
room. Anything in the way of a cigar, or ” 

But the inspector came to business at once. It was 
plain that his story interested the listener, for he followed 


The Speaking Likeness 33 

with eyes of rounded astonishment. He punctuated the 
story with surprised grunts. 

“Bless my soul!” he explained. “Whoever would 
have thought it ? I never expected that there was any- 
body like that famous poster. I had two thousand of 
them through my hands in the way of business, and they 
struck me as clever, very clever indeed. Personally, I 
regarded them as theatrical bills.” 

“Then you can’t tell us anything about them?” the 
inspector asked, with an air of chagrin. 

“Nothing whatever,” Freshcombe replied promptly. 
* * As I said before, the posters came to us in the ordinary 
way of business. There was an air of secrecy about the 
whole thing.” 

“ Which did not attract your attention ? Did not appeal 
to your suspicions, I mean ? ” 

“Not a bit of it. The advertiser wanted to create an 
air of mystery and sensation. How well that has been 
managed I leave you to guess. Being, moreover, exceed- 
ingly shrewd, the advertiser did not mean his name to leak 
out. I received a note one day asking my terms for dis- 
playing a thousand of those posters on all the hoardings in 
London, and my people sent in a quotation.” 

“ That letter came from another business house, I pre- 
sume, sir? ” the inspector asked. 

“ No, it didn’t. It was from a certain Mr. John Smith, 
and was written from the Hotel Royale, and on the official 
paper of the hotel. Three days later the posters arrived 
per a firm of carriers, and the same afternoon a check 
drawn by John Smith on the City and Provincial Bank. 
We cashed the check and posted the bills. I may say that, 
in the usual course of business, 1 should not have known 
this ; but I was a little struck by the posters and their mys- 
tery, so I made inquiries. I assure you that I have not 
time to go into these minor details as a rule.” 

“I am rather disappointed,” the inspector said. “I 
hardly expected this. The mystery of the posters ” 

“ Was part of the cleverness of the scheme,” Fresh- 
combe interrupted. “ As a rule, these things leak out and 


34 


The Yellow Face 


spoil the game. Why, half-a-dozen newspaper men have 
been asking questions in my office.” 

“ Then you don’t even know who printed the posters? ” 
Jack asked. “ Have you any more left ? ” 

“I fancy the posters were French,” Freshcombe said. 
“ They had evidently been repacked before they came to 
me. No, we have none left ; they were all posted last 
week. I haven’t even one as a specimen.” 

Mr. Freshcombe would have pushed his hospitality, but 
the others declined. The inspector was not going to give 
up the chase like this. Could Mr. Freshcombe find a 
London Directory, or in any way help him to ascertain the 
name and address of the manager of the City branch of the 
City and Provincial Bank ? Mr. Freshcombe could supply 
both details. The bank manager in question was a large 
shareholder in the firm and enjoyed an important position. 
As to his residence, it was in Piccadilly, over the bank’s 
branch there. Mr. Carrington was a man of fashion, so 
that,. if he were at home, it was unlikely that he had gone 
to bed. A moment later and the cab was proceeding 
towards Piccadilly. 

Mr. Carrington was not only at home, but he was enter- 
taining friends. There were lights in all the windows of 
the handsome suite of rooms over the bank, and a chatter 
of voices assailed the ears of the callers as soon as the ma- 
hogany door was opened. Mr. Carrington was giving an 
evening party, the footman explained, and he did not like 
to be disturbed. But the sight of the inspector’s uniform 
was not without its effect, and the intruders were ushered 
into a little room at the top of the stairs. The door was 
not quite closed, so that the strangers could see down a 
handsome corridor into a fine drawing-room beyond. 
Jack could recognize some of the guests, whereby he knew 
that Mr. Carrington kept very good company. 

“ I feel like an intruder,” Jack said, as he stood looking 
out of the room. In his evening dress he might have 
passed for a guest himself. “ If Mr. Carrington is in a 
position ” 

Jack paused suddenly. He was face to face with the 


The Speaking Likeness 35 

third great surprise to-night. For there in the corridor, 
and coming towards him now, was the fair-haired, dark- 
skinned girl whom he had seen with the young man in 
Spencer Anstruther’s study. There was no mistake here, 
no illusion. The girl walked along with her head down, 
making a sign from time to time to the man by her side. 
He was a perfect stranger to Jack, who dismissed him from 
the situation altogether as a mere vacuous man about town. 
If the woman was here, the youth with the imperial mous- 
tache was not far off, Jack thought. 

“ I think that you were going to say something, sir,” the 
inspector ventured. 

But Jack had quite recovered himself by this time. He 
made some commonplace remark, and then Mr. Carring- 
ton came into the room. He was polite, but not at all 
anxious for his visitors to remain. Would they be so good 
as to get to the point. 

The inspector told his story with considerable brevity. 
Mr. Carrington was pleased to be interested. It was a 
strange and startling romance as it stood, but the bank man- 
ager did not see his way to afford any solution of this mystery. 

“ I haven’t quite finished, sir,” the inspector said 
quietly. “ That bill-posting was paid for by a check 
drawn on your City branch, of which you are manager, by 
one John Smith. Now, this John Smith ” 

“ Which John Smith?” Mr. Carrington asked, with a 
smile. “ My good sir, do you know that we have some 
two thousand five hundred accounts at our City branch ? 
Probably the name of John Smith is the commonest in the 
world. Without making any very definite statement, I 
should say that we have over two hundred accounts in the 
name of Smith, and probably a third of them John Smith. 
I can quite understand your anxiety to get on the track of 
the right man without delay, but that could not possibly 
be done to-night. I could not even get at the ledgers 
without two of the cashiers being present. But I will 
make it a point to be at the bank at ten o’clock to-morrow 
morning and meet you there. It is impossible to do any 
tnore to-night.” 


The Yellow Face 


3 6 

The inspector nodded his head somewhat sadly. He 
quite saw the force of what Mr. Carrington was saying. 
He couid do no more than make an appointment for the 
following day. He wished Carrington good-night and 
turned to go, followed by Masefield. In the corridor 
somebody called Jack by name. He turned to see a cob 
league of the junior Bar standing before him. 

“Hullo!” the latter said, “where did you turn up 
from ? I had an idea that you were a friend of Carring- 
ton's. Get your coat off and join us in a game of bridge.” 

The situation was just a little embarrassing, but Carring- 
ton came to the rescue. Masefield was dressed for the 
part, so to speak, and would he not remain ?. There would 
be dancing presently, and 

But Jack decided promptly. He whispered the inspec- 
tor to precede him and wait for him in the cab. Carring- 
ton passed on as Jack stood just a moment chatting with 
his old friend and school -fellow. 

“ I came here to-night on rather important business,” he 
said. “ There is no occasion to go into that now. But I 
want you to do something for me, my dear fellow. In 
hunting up one mystery I feel pretty sure that I have come 
on the track of another. There is a deaf and dumb girl 
here — there she is, with that Johnny chap in the resplen- 
dent white waistcoat. I want you to find out who she is 
and where she comes from.” 

“ That’s all right,” Richard Rigby responded. “ Nice- 
looking girl, with fair hair and dark eyes. Sort of striking 
theatrical get-up, don’t you think ? ” 

“ Well, now you mention it, perhaps it is rather in that 
way. But that isn’t all, Dick; unless I am greatly mis- 
taken, the girl came here with a fair chap whose mous- 
tache is turned up after the fashion of the German Emperor. 
Find out all about him, too, and I’ll look you up at your 
chambers the first thing in the morning. I must not keep 
my friend waiting. Good-night.” 

Jack passed along the corridor in the direction of the 
staircase. There were many palms and ferns there, with 
screens behind which people could sit and not be seen 


The Speaking Likeness 37 

except by their partners. Jack paused with his foot on 
the thick pile of the carpet, for just in front of him was 
the girl with the southern face and fair hair. Her head 
was still bent low, her fingers were working. What her 
companion was like Jack could not quite make out, for his 
back was turned. The girl looked up at him with a flash 
of anger in her eyes, her lips moved, and sound certainly 
came from them. Jack could just catch the words. 

“ Don’t drive me too far,” she said. “ Take care and 

not drive me too far, because ” 

The girl suddenly lapsed into silence again and her 
fingers began to work. The couple passed behind a screen 
of palms and ferns, and Jack could see them no more. 

“ Well, this has been a night and a half,” he said. 
“Where is it going to end? I wonder if my friend the 
inspector will be disposed to accept my suggestion ? ” 

The inspector gave Jack’s suggestion the most careful 
attention. He had not thought of it before. 

“We’ll go back to the scene of the murder,” Jack said. 
“ There is a strong electric light in front of the hoarding, 
and the Nostalgo poster is only a few feet from the ground. 
Moreover, it has only recently been put up, and it is quite 
clean and fair. Depend upon it, there is some trade-mark 
upon the bill, even if it is only a cipher. Of course, you 
see the importance of finding out who posted that bill ? ” 

“ Of course, sir. How do you propose to get at the 
facts?” 

“ By examining the bill with the aid of a strong magni- 
fying glass. I have no doubt that, being a detective, you 
have such a thing in your pocket at the present moment ? 
Good. Then, all you have to do is to order the cab to 
drive to the corner of Pan ton Street and stop there.” 

The cab arrived at length and the occupants dis- 
mounted. They did not take the cab quite as far as the 
scene of the murder for obvious reasons, but walked on 
there alone. It was quite still now, and nobody was about 
save a passing policeman, who had orders to give notice if 
anybody was coming. It was just as well that the curi- 
osity of passers-by should not be aroused. 


The Yellow Face 


38 

“Now for it,” Jack said, breathing a little faster in 
his excitement. “ Perhaps we had better have the as- 
sistance of your lantern as well. I thought that the poster 
was there. It was there. I’ll swear that that is the very 
spot, just where that picture of the pretty girl taking the 
pills is. Good heavens, man, the poster has gone! It has 
been covered up since we were here before by that mus- 
tard advertisement. At the hour after midnight the thing 
has been done. But the right thing must be underneath. 
See ! The poster is wet ! ’ ’ 

Jack advanced to tear the poster down, but the in- 
spector pulled him roughly aside. 

“Don’t touch it,” he said hoarsely. “ Whatever you 
do, don’t touch it. Wait /” 


CHAPTER V 


A VANISHED CLUE 

Jack Masefield paused for Inspector Bates to say more. 
Possibly the officer was possessed of some brilliant idea, 
but after the first glance at his face it was easy to see that 
he was as nonplused as Jack himself. It was only the 
professional caution that spoke ; there was no illumination 
at the back of the policeman’s brain. 

“ I had hoped that perhaps you had discerned some- 
thing,” Masefield said. 

“Not quite that, sir,” Bates admitted. “So far I am 
as much in the dark as you are yourself, but my experience 
is that nothing is to be gained by haste. What I mean is 
that a thoughtless movement often destroys a clue of the 
utmost value. I should like to stand here for a moment 
and consider my position.” 

Jack drily remarked that there could be no objection to 
the course proposed by Inspector Bates. It was very late 
now ; there was nothing to be seen, so that the train of 
thought of the inspector was not likely to be interrupted. 
He stood facing the great boarded hoarding with its wealth 
of gaudy pictorial advertisements, but his face did not 
lighten, and the moody frown was still on his brow. 

“Blessed if I can make anything of it,” he said in vexed 
tones. “ Here’s a man found dead under the most amaz- 
ing circumstances. There seems to be no motive for the 
crime ; nothing has been removed from the body so far 
as we know ; the man evidently died where he fell. That 
he was killed I dare say the medical examination will 
show.” 

“So far the crime is commonplace and vulgar enough,” 
Jack Masefield suggested. “Scores of these things hap- 
pen in London every year. Some are found out, but some 

39 


40 


The Yellow Face 


remain mysteries to the end of time ; but this particular 
crime seems to be peculiarly terrible. First of all, Lon- 
don' for some time has been doubly attentive to the yellow- 
faced posters. No greater advertising circular has ever 
appealed to the public. Nostalgo is a personality about 
as great as some of our leading actors. Still, nobody has 
really regarded Nostalgo as a living force, and I find him 
dead on the pavement here right in front of one of his 
own posters. Is that coincidence or an amazing hap- 
pening ? ” 

“Both, I should say, sir,” Bates replied. “An amaz- 
ing happening in any case. But to find the man dead in 
front of one of his own posters may be no more than a 
coincidence. You see, there are so many Nostalgo pos- 
ters about.” 

But Jack was loth to give up his point. 

“I admit that,” he said; “ but the particular poster we 
find up is a fresh one. It was more or less shot-marked, 
as I pointed out to you ; it was marked much as the body 
of the dead man was marked. If you remember, I sug- 
gested examining the poster by means of a magnifying 
glass, in the hope of finding some kind of printer’s trade- 
mark, and we come back here for that purpose. We find 
the poster pasted over with a commonplace advertisement 
of somebody’s mustard. Surely that is not coincidence. 
For some reason or other the poster was covered by de- 
sign. It is not the habit of the bill-poster to go about the 
work at midnight.” 

“Ah, there you are not altogether correct, sir,” Bates 
exclaimed. He felt that he was on pretty safe ground 
now. “ The working bill-poster is not tied to time. He 
has a certain amount of work to do, and he does it pretty 
well when he pleases. Sometimes they have to work very 
late. For instance, a stock piece put up at a theatre may 
prove a draw, and the management desire to keep it going 
for a time. Then there is work late at night for some 
firm of the paste-pot.” 

“ Quite so, inspector; but does that apply to the harm- 
less, necessary mustard advertisement ? ” 


A Vanished Clue 


4 * 


“ Not directly, perhaps. But suppose there had been 
a sudden rush of new and urgent work, the routine would 
have fallen behind. Please understand that the bill-poster 
does not career round in a casual way, sticking up a poster 
just where it suits his fancy. All these hoardings are 
rented, and big advertisers contract to have so many sheets 
displayed every week ; in fact, it is a most desultory busi- 
ness. Depend upon it, the bill-poster who so lately posted 
up that alluring mustard tin had nothing to do with the 
business.” ' 

It was all so logical and conclusive that Jack was com- 
pelled to drop further argument. At the same time, it 
seemed rather foolish to stand there doing nothing. 

“ Look here,” he said, struck by a sudden idea ; “ why 
not pull that mustard poster down, and get at the real 
source of the truth. The paper is still wet, and I dare say 
we might find a ladder behind the hoarding. Let us pull it 
down, and take the whole thing to the police-station and 
examine it at our leisure.” 

There was no objection to this, at Bates was bound to 
admit. It was a very easy matter to find a way behind 
the hoarding and secure the firmest of many ladders. A 
short one was sufficient for the purpose, and very soon the 
great sheet that contained the mustard advertisement was 
pulled off the wooden hoarding and lay in a heap on the 
pavement. In the place of it, fresh and strong, was the 
yellow face of Nostalgo. Jack took the inspector’s lamp 
and regarded the poster carefully by the magnifying glass. 
But there was no imprint to be seen, nothing to lead to the 
identity of the firm who printed the placard. 

“ I can make nothing whatever of it,” Masefield was 
fain to admit at last. 4 ‘There are the shot holes plainly 
marked, as if somebody had used an air-gun or a pea- 
rifle. Beyond that I can see absolutely nothing of the 
slightest significance. The best thing for us to do is to 
see the contractor who has the job in hand in the morning, 
and get him to saw the poster out of the wooden hoarding 
for you. The strong light of day may make a difference ; 
but I am not as yet absolutely satisfied that that mustard 


42 


The Yellow Face 

poster was placed exactly on the top of the yellow face 
quite by accident.” 

Bates did not contest the point. He was getting tired 
and sleepy, and it was very late. “Very well,” he said, 
“ we will return to the police station in Shannon Street and 
have another look at the dead man. It is just possible we 
may find something there. At the same time, it may be 
just as well to be on the safe side. I’ll get one of my 
men to come here and keep an eye on the hoarding to- 
night. It is on the cards that he may see something sus- 
picious. I’ll send a plain clothes man here to watch.” 

As Bates blew softly on his whistle a constable turned 
up and saluted. He was to stay where he was until relief 
came, Bates explained. Then he and Jack Masefield went 
off in the direction of Shannon Street station. The place 
was perfectly quiet ; nobody had been brought in lately ; 
there was no sign of the tragedy here. In a rack near the 
back, lighted by a skylight some six feet from the ground, 
lay the murdered body of the man with the yellow face. 
The malignant look had gone from his face ; he seemed 
calm and placid. As Jack bent over him it seemed to him 
that there was a movement of the heart. He pointed 
this out to the inspector, who shook his head. 

“ People not accustomed to these things often make the 
same mistake,” he said. “ I have heard witnesses swear 
that the body of this or that man was not bereft of life, 
and in this belief they have been quite certain. Then a 
doctor comes along and proves beyond a doubt that death 
has taken place perhaps five or six hours before. Mus- 
cular action is what probably deceives people. That poor 
fellow is dead enough.” 

Masefield did not argue the matter. It was a sickening 
business, and he felt that he would gladly see the end of 
it. Not so Bates, who was inured to this kind of thing. 
Very rapidly and skilfully he went over the body in search 
of anything that might be likely to lead to the identifica- 
tion of the deceased. But the pockets were doubtless 
empty ; there was no watch or chain, or purse, no marking 
on the linen. 


A Vanished Clue 


43 


“ Not even a laundry mark ? ” Jack suggested. “ If my 
reasoning is correct, a laundry mark has frequently proved 
of the greatest assistance.” 

“No mark whatever,” said Bates. “The shirt, for in- 
stance, is of ordinary make, the class of thing that one 
buys ready-made at a shop, and which has usually its 
maker’s mark on. There has been a mark of some kind 
on the neck band, but it looks as if it had been blocked 
out with chemicals. See how much whiter and thinner 
the neck band is. We are simply wasting our time 
here.” 

Jack said nothing ; he could only shake his head sadly. 
The more the mystery came to be probed the more mad- 
dening did it become. A close investigation of the cloth- 
ing presented as little result ; there was nothing even about 
the boots to prove where they had been made. If the man 
was a criminal, and his general air suggested that, he had 
taken the most amazing precaution to prevent identification 
in case of accidents. Jack looked at the clear, dark fea- 
tures. This was no man to take anybody into his confi- 
dence. Success or failure, or crime, must all be under- 
taken alike alone and unaided. This face would never 
have led anybody to rejoice with him in good fortune, or 
sympathize with him in failure. 

“ Well, I think I had better be getting back to my 
rooms,” Masefield said. “ I have given you my name and 
address. I’ll come round to-morrow and see if you have 
made anything out of the poster in the daylight. One 
thing is pretty certain — there should be no difficulty, if a 
determined effort is made, to discover the people who 
printed the picture of the yellow face. There are not 
many firms in this country capable of such work.” 

“There is the Continent,” Bates suggested. “I’m 
afraid that it will be very much like looking for a needle 
in a hayrick. Still ” 

What deep philosophical remark Bates was going to 
make Masefield was not destined to hear, for at the same 
moment there was the sound of a sudden disturbance in 
the office beyond. The hoarse voice of a sergeant was 


44 


The Yellow Face 


heard demanding to know what this little game meant, 
there was a groan, and the collapse of a heavy body on the 
floor. Bates strode into the office. 

“ What is all this row about? ” he demanded. 

“It’s Gregory, sir,” the sergeant replied. “Went off 
half-an-hour ago on some special work for you, or so he 
said, and here’s he back as drunk as a lord ; regularly col- 
lapsed on the floor, he did. It’s not the first time, 
either.” 

A sudden suspicion burst upon Masefield. He knelt by 
the side of the plain clothes man and felt his heart. There 
was a peculiar red mark round the man’s neck as if some- 
thing had been pulled very tightly round it. 

“The man is no more drunk than I am,” Jack said. 
“ He has been attacked, and his breath is wholly free from 
any suspicion of drink. Look at that mark round his 
neck.” 

Very slowly the prostrate man struggled to a sitting posi- 
tion. When the fact had once been ascertained that there 
was no suggestion of intoxication, brandy was administered 
to him. He had a strange story to tell. He was carrying 
out instructions when suddenly somebody came behind 
him and placed a rope round his neck. Before he could 
recover himself he was partially strangled ; he lost con- 
sciousness and lay on the pavement. When he came to 
himself again he was quite alone. He had managed to 
struggle back to the station, and once there had collapsed 
on the floor. Robbery was not the motive, for he had lost 
nothing. 

“It’s all part of the same mystery,” Jack decided. 
“ Something was going on behind that hoarding, and the 
criminals did not want the policeman to see. I shall walk 
back to my rooms that way. No, you had better not come 
along, inspector, in case you are spotted. I shall just walk 
very coolly by and keep my eye on that hoarding. Good- 
night ! ” 

There was nothing more to be done, so Masefield was 
allowed to depart. He had ample food for thought as he 
walked along the deserted streets. He came at length to 


A Vanished Clue 


4 5 


the great hoarding where the poster had stood. He 
stopped just for a moment, almost too amazed to move ; 
then he forced himself to go forward again. 

For the striking Nostalgo poster was gone. It had been 
sawn neatly out of the boards of the hoardings leaving a 
blank square eye in its place / 


CHAPTER VI 


VANISHED ! 

It was not to be supposed that this had happened with- 
out attracting the Argus eye of the Press. The night- 
birds of journalism had been hovering about, seeking their 
prey of sensational copy. They haunted the police station 
with a hope that something might turn up — the hope that 
every reporter has that sooner or later he may happen on 
a good thing that has in it the making of some columns 
of red-hot descriptive matter. 

One of them, hungry and lynx-eyed, had seen the body 
of Nostalgo carried to Shannon Street station. There 
might have been a paragraph then ; there might have been 
a column. At any rate, the chance was too good to be 
lost. The reporter was on the best of terms with the police 
for a square mile or so ; indeed, his living more or less 
depended on the good fellowship of the local authorities. 

The sergeant had first of all set the ball rolling ; the re- 
porter had seen the body ; he had no difficulty in recog- 
nizing the striking likeness between the dead man and the n 
poster. Younger men would have rushed off at once and 
made a long paragraph of this, manifolded it, and sent it 
broadcast along Fleet Street. 

But not so the old and cunning hand at the game ; his 
instinct told him that there was more to come. There was 
more to come, probably in the shape of the shaken Greg- 
ory, who presently told the reporter his part of the story. 
This was a case when a cab was justified. Half-an-hour 
later the reporter was closeted with the chief sub-editor of 
the Daily Planet , a halfpenny morning paper dealing 
largely in sensations. The sub-editor’s eye gleamed as he 
listened to the reporter’s story. This was something after 
his own heart. 


46 


Vanished ! 


47 


“ Write two columns of it,” he said. “You can use 
Daly’s room. Serve it up as hot as you can with plenty 
of scare heads. We’ll give it the first place on page five. 
You had better have a stenographer, as time is pressing.” 

Therefore it came about that the half million or so of 
readers of the Planet had the shock at breakfast the fol- 
lowing day. With its tally of many dazzling sensations, 
the Planet had never been more successful than in this. 
The thing was admirably done. The mystery was puz- 
zling to a degree. Before ten o’clock the following morn- 
ing London was talking of little else. It was discussed in 
the train, on the top of the omnibus, in City offices. The 
name of Nostalgo was on every lip. 

The editor-in-chief and the chief shareholder in the 
Planet Company came down to the office very early in the 
forenoon, an action quite unusual with him. But his keen 
instinct scented a good thing for the Planet here. The 
thing was exclusively his own, and he meant to work it to 
the last ounce. The little man with the bald head and 
gold-rimmed monocle had created a pretty scheme by the 
time he had reached his office. Without loss of time he 
sent for Mr. Richard Rigby. Rigby came in response to 
the summons. He found journalism more remunerative 
than the Bar. 

“This is the best thing we have ever had,” Mr. Van 
Jens said in his staccato way. “I’m just going to show 
the British public what an American journalist can do with 
the thing. It’s pretty clear to me that the police have 
blundered, as they always do, and that they have got right 
off the track of the truth. We’re going to solve the mys- 
tery, Rigby, and you’re the man I have picked out to do 
it. In the first place, you are a clever actor, and you have 
pluck. Go about it in your own way, and take your own 
time. Never mind the expense; spend ^1,000 if neces- 
sary. Only get to the bottom of the thing, if it’s merely 
to prove to the police that they can’t do without the Press. 
By the way, isn’t Masefield a friend of yours? ” 

Rigby admitted that such was the case. He did not 
pretend to follow the quick working of his chief’s brain ; 


The Yellow Face 


48 

few men were competent to do that. Van Jens was lean- 
ing over the Planet in order to read the report of the Nos- 
talgo affair. 

“I saw Masefield last night,” Rigby said. He did not 
tell Van Jens that Jack had met him at Carrington’s, for 
that was a matter concerning Masefield alone. “ Do you 
think he is likely to be of any assistance to me?” 

“It is just possible. You see it was Masefield who 
actually found the body of the man who we call Nostalgo. 
It is possible also that Masefield knows more than our re- 
porter got to find out. You had better hint to Masefield 
that there is a chance of getting a commission from us to 
write a serial for one of our weekly journals — he is in the 
way of doing that kind of thing. Anyway, get him to 
regard it in a favorable light. If you handle the man 
properly, I feel quite sure that he will offer you valuable 
information.” 

Rigby nodded. He did not tell Van Jens that Jack 
Masefield was a close friend of his, for that point had 
nothing to do with Van Jens, who regarded Rigby as the 
typical smart unit of the smart paper, and none too scrupu- 
lous where men were concerned. As a matter of fact 
Rigby had his code of honor ; possibly his chief would not 
have considered it. Come what might, Rigby was not 
likely to take any advantage of Masefield. 

“ All right,” he said ; “ you may rely upon me to do all 
that I can. By the way, if I am to take this case in hand, 
I must not be tied as to time. I mean, that somebody 
else must be drafted out to do my regular work and — and 
to say nothing if I don’t show up here regularly. I think 
that only fair.” 

“Only fair, it is,” Van Jens replied. “I’ll see to all 
that. And I’ll leave instructions with the counting house 
that you are to draw on me to the extent of ^1,000 if 
necessary. And now you had better go off to Masefield 
without delay.” 

It was not yet eleven o’clock, and Rigby felt pretty 
certain of finding Masefield at home. He was perfectly 
correct in his conclusions, for Jack was busy just putting 


Vanished ! 


49 


the finishing touches to a short magazine story. The 
morning papers lay in a pile on the table, but as yet he had 
not had time to open them. Rigby helped himself to a 
cigarette. 

“ Hope I don’t intrude,” he said. “ If I am in the way, 
kick me out at once.” 

“ You are never in the way here, Dick,” Masefield 
smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have just passed the last 
page of this story for the Grasshopper . It’s always a 
pleasure to sit down and write a story when you have a 
fair commission for it.” 

“ You will soon have plenty of them, my boy,” Rigby 
said cheerfully, “especially now that you’ve got your 
name in the papers. Seen the Planet to-day? You 
haven’t? Well, you are pretty prominent on page five, 
let me tell you. One of our men got hold of that sensa- 
tional Nostalgo business, and then made a picture of it. 
Just run your eye along the report, and tell me what you 
think of it. Pretty hot, isn’t it? Now can you tell me 
anything? ” 

“Anything fresh in regard to the affair you mean ? ” 

** You’ve got it first time. As a matter of fact, Van 
Jens has placed the thing in my hands, and I’m to get to 
the bottom of it if it costs the paper ^£1,000. Van Jens 
suggested that I should come and see you and pump you. 
The bait to you is a commission for a big serial in one of 
our weeklies. But apart from all that, Jack, I’m quite 
sure that you will be ready to help me for old sake’s 
sake.” 

“ Of course I will,” Masefield said heartily. “ Really, 
there is very little to tell ; your man seems to have got it 
down very fine. But I can tell you all about the shot 
marks and the missing poster, only you must not publish 
that.” 

“My dear fellow, you don’t quite understand my posi- 
tion. I’m not sent as a mere scare writer in this business ; 
I’m more of an amateur detective, with a pocket full of 
money. My task is to beat the police at their own game, 
and prove the superior intellectual force of the Press. 


5 ° 


The Yellow Face 


Then I shall write the whole story, and the Planet circula- 
tion will go up to a million.” 

“Then I’ll tell you all that there is to know,” Jack 
replied. “ When I have finished my story, I shall have a 
few questions to ask you. Get your note-book out.” 

Rigby had no cause for complaint on the score of Mase- 
field’s narrative. In the description of the shot marks 
and the subsequently missing poster he felt that he had 
conquered a fine point of the situation. He took another 
cigarette, and Jack did the same. 

“Now I’m going to ask you a few questions,” the 
latter said, “and I should not be surprised that in replying 
to my queries we throw some fresh light on the object of 
your search. You will recollect meeting me at Carring- 
ton’s last night? ” 

“ Of course I do. I took you for a fellow quite above 
that kind of thing — playing the amateur detective.” 

“Notably, as I was in evening dress. As a matter of 
fact I had been dining with Spencer Anstruther, and it 
was in leaving his house that I found the body of the man 
we had better call Nostalgo. Of course I recognized him 
by the likeness to the poster. Subsequently Inspector 
Bates and myself discovered the name of the firm who 
posted the creation. We went off to see the head of the 
firm, and he could tell us very little, except that the placards 
came from some John Smith, who had an account with the 
City and Provincial Bank. The latter fact accounts for my 
being at Carrington’s last night.” 

“Exactly. And you asked me to keep my eye on a 
pretty girl, who was deaf, and who had for attendant 
cavalier a chap with a moustache like that of the German 
Emperor.” 

“I am coming to that,” Masefield went on. “I told 
you that I had been dining with Anstruther. Now these 
two people left Anstruther’s house, for I followed them. I 
will tell you a more striking thing about them later on, but 
I want to have my side of the affair cleared up first. Tell 
me what happened after I left Carrington’s with Inspector 
Bates.” 


Vanished ! 


51 


“ Well, I kept my eye on these people, as you asked me. 
I tried to get some information about the fair one from 
Carrington himself, but he didn’t seem to like the subject. 
He seemed depressed and a little bit uneasy, I thought ; 
said it was a sad case, sort of relation of his, and that the 
man with the moustache was a foreign count or something 
of that sort. I wouldn’t press the matter, as it would have 
been in bad taste, you see. But, all the same, I did keep 
an eye on these people, as you asked me, and the end of it 
was that I followed them when they left the house. I don’t 
know what made me do it." 

“ At any rate I’m glad you acted in that manner," Jack 
said. “ Did they go back in the direction of Anstruther’s 
house ? Did they take a cab? ’’ 

“ Not in the ordinary acceptance of the word," Rigby 
explained. “ They walked as far as the top of Regent 
Circus, where a private growler was waiting. The cab was 
all black, the driver had a black livery. I could not see 
his face, as it was tied up with a silk handkerchief as if the 
fellow had toothache or something of that kind. The 
four-wheeler was evidently waiting for them, for they got 
in at once.” 

“Anybody else inside the cab ? " Jack asked. 

“By Jove, I was nearly forgetting that!" Rigby 
exclaimed. “ I was just flush with the cab as it passed 
a lamp. There was another figure in the cab, a man, and 
as the light shone on his face I was about staggered by his 
resemblance to the poster of Nostalgo. I only saw the 
face just for an instant, but it is impressed upon my mind 
as if the man were standing before me at this very minute. 
Singular, was it not ? ’’ 

Jack nodded dumbly. This was another new departure 
in the strange mystery. For the man seen by Rigby in 
the black four-wheeler could not possibly have been the same 
Nostalgo that Jack had found, seeing that the latter had 
been lying in Shannon Street some hour or two before the 
time that Rigby was speaking about. 

“You did not follow them further, I suppose ? ’’ Mase- 
field asked. 


52 


The Yellow Face 


“ No; I didn’t go as far as that. And at the moment 
I didn’t think anything as to that Nostalgo business No. i, 
so to speak. If I had, you may bet your bottom dollar 
that I should not have lost the opportunity. The cab 
drifted away without any direction being given ; so I went 
along, without giving it more consideration, to my club. 
Eh, what?” 

Inspector Bates had hurried into the room without cere- 
mony. His face was pale and agitated. 

“Something strange come out at the inquest?” Jack 
asked. 

“No, sir,” Bates gasped, “for the simple reason that 
there has been no inquest. You can’t hold an inquest 
without a body. What do I mean ? Why, that the body 
has vanished from the room, leaving not a hint of a clue 
behind ! ” 


CHAPTER VII 


NO. 4, MONTROSE PLACE 

The inspector stood there with his hand on his heart, 
as if he had run far and fast. So far as Jack could see, 
Bates was suffering from some strong emotion. He flopped 
down in the chair indicated for him, and took Jack’s 
proffered cigarette with a shaking hand. Although his 
feelings were not exactly under the control one would 
have expected from one of the leading lights of Scotland 
Yard, there was at the same time a certain suggestion of 
grim humor playing about the corners of his mouth. 
Jack looked across at Rigby and smiled significantly. 

“ Evidently a new development of the case,” Jack said, 
glancing once more at his friend. “As a matter of fact, 
inspector, I have just been telling Mr. Rigby all about 
last night’s ghastly business. By the way, you will recol- 
lect, of course, that Mr. Rigby is my friend whom we met 
at Mr. Carrington’s last night. Not to make too long a 
story of it, there are sidelights of this business of which 
you are not at present aware — but all that is beside the 
point. What I want you to tell me is about this disap- 
pearance of the body of Nostalgo. Seriously, do you want 
my friend and me to believe that the body of a dead man 
has disappeared from Shannon Street police station right 
under the eyes of the authorities ? ” 

“ Well, that is about the size of it,” Bates admitted rue- 
fully. “ Naturally enough, we look forward to important 
developments at the official inquiry. I had a chat late 
last night with the doctor, who seemed to be of the opinion 
that the dead man had been shot with something quite new 
in the way of a weapon.” 

“What, do you mean a new projectile or a new sort of 
small arm ? ” Masefield asked. 

53 


54 


The Yellow Face 


“Well, not exactly that,” the inspector replied; “but 
something quite new in the way of a missile. There were 
marks on the breast of our unfortunate friend which indi- 
cated the presence of a shot of some kind that did mortal 
damage without leaving traces of anything material be- 
hind.” 

“ Oh, that is all very well, so far as it goes ; but what I 
want to get at chiefly is the cause of the disappearance of 
the body,” Rigby put in impatiently. “ What is the good 
of trying to establish all sorts of new theories when you 
have not so much as a dead body of the deceased man be- 
fore you ? It seems incredible to me that this outrage 
could have been committed in a police station. Was no 
one about — was the whole place deserted, whereby some 
stranger could have coolly stepped in and walked off with 
the body of a powerful man ? ” 

“ Well, that is not so difficult as it might seem,” Bates 
said eagerly. “As a matter of fact, our mortuary is 
merely an outside room which at one time had been used 
as a kitchen. Mr. Masefield will recollect last night 
noticing that the light of the room consisted entirely of a 
kind of skylight. The ceiling is exceedingly low, so that 
it would be quite possible for a tall man to lift the body 
through and carry it away without the least trouble, pro- 
vided, of course, that he had sufficient strength. At any 
rate, there it is, and we have to make the best of it.” 

“ I hope that you have managed to keep this matter 
from the public so far,” Masefield said. “I don’t think 
anything will be gained by allowing this new sensation to 
get into the papers. The best thing we can do is to come 
round to Shannon Street with you and see if we can lay 
our hands upon anything in the way of a clue. My friend 
Mr. Rigby has had a lot of experience in amateur detect- 
ive work ; I dare say you recollect his success in the mat- 
ter of the Mortlake coiners, on behalf of the Planet." 

Bates expressed his willingness to fall in with this ar- 
rangement. Not that he had any particular confidence in 
amateur detectives generally; but he was so bewildered 
and disheartened at present that anything was preferable to 


No. 4, Montrose Place 55 

his own painful thoughts. The police station was reached 
at length, and a thorough search of the shabby little apart- 
ment at the back of the office made. But no amount of 
investigation served to throw any light on this new phase 
of the mystery. It was even as Bates had said : with the 
darkness of the night, and expecting no developments of 
this kind, a bold and unscrupulous character might easily 
have entered the room and taken away anything, however 
bulky, without much chance of detection. 

Nothing daunted by the want of success attending his 
efforts, Rigby climbed on to the roof and looked around 
him. He was particularly struck by the deserted area at 
the back of the police station. It was some distance from 
his coign of vantage to the nearest house. No doubt at 
one time the open space had consisted of fertile gardens, 
but the same space was now given over to arid grass and 
a few stunted trees — a scene of desolation indeed. On 
the opposite side, some two hundred yards away, the backs 
of a terrace of large houses looked blankly on the scene. 
Rigby, with a new idea entirely in his mind, inquired the 
name of the terrace. Bates smiled with the superior air of 
the professional, and replied that it was Montrose Place. 

“ And what class of people live there ? ” Rigby asked. 

“ Well, rather mixed, I should say,” Bates replied. 
‘‘There was a time, not so many years ago, when Mont- 
rose Place was quite fashionable. Mind you, they’re ex- 
ceedingly good houses, quite good enough for any moneyed 
class ; but I understand that the landlord is by no means a 
liberal man, and, as the houses have fallen out of repair, 
they have become void.” 

Any further information on this head was cut short by 
the sudden calling away of the inspector. It seemed to 
Masefield that Rigby was by no means disposed to mourn 
for the official’s company. He stood with his brows bent 
frowning at the sombre row of houses in front of him, but, 
from the quick working of his hands, Masefield could see 
that his versatile friend’s brain was busy. 

“I see you have made a discovery,” Masefield said 
quietly. “ Would you mind telling me what it is? ” 


The Yellow Face 


56 

Rigby pointed to the fourth house from the end of the 
terrace. Did Masefield notice anything about it peculiar ? 
he asked. But Masefield did not see anything about the 
house at all ominous or suggestive, except that the win- 
dows were grimy and dirty, and that the erstwhile fashion- 
able silk blinds were hanging in tatters like banners behind 
the smirky glass. 

“But surely you see something?” asked Rigby impa- 
tiently. “For instance, take the third window on the 
left over the ledge, which probably is that of the bath- 
room. Don’t appear to be looking, and, at the same time, 
keep your eye casually on the window.” 

With a quickening of his pulses, Masefield glanced up 
in a vague kind of way in the direction of the window. 
He felt instinctively that in some way the deserted house 
was involved in the disappearance of Nostalgo. There 
was not much time for speculation on this point. Very 
slowly and cautiously the blind was raised, and a haggard 
face peeped out. It was like a picture from some old 
print, this strange weird yellow face behind the grimy 
glass. So thick was the murky dust upon the casement 
that it was impossible at so short a distance to decide 
whether the features were those of a man or a woman. 
Anyway, the face, if it were that of a man, was clean- 
shaven, tl\e pale head half hidden behind a tangle of thick 
black hair. It was only for a moment that this weird 
face presented itself to the eager eyes of the spectators 
below ; an instant later and the whole phantom had 
vanished. 

“ Now, what do you think of that?” Rigby asked 
eagerly. “ Don’t you agree with me that this strange ap- 
parition has something to do with the story ? Now, sup- 
posing you or I had some powerful inducement for getting 
hold of the missing body, could we find a better place to 
work from than that deserted house? ” 

“Provided always that it is deserted,” Masefield said 
guardedly. “ Don’t let’s go quite so fast. Surely your 
own experience must have taught you what strange crea- 
tures one often sees as caretakers in good houses ? ’ ’ 


57 


No. 4, Montrose Place 

“ So much the better for me,” Rigby replied. “ If you 
are correct in your suggestion, it will make my task all the 
more easy ; for, come what may, I am going to see the 
whole inside of that place before I sleep to-night.” 

Rigby walked back into the police station with the air 
of a man who has said his last word on the matter. It 
was no advantage to him, working as he was on behalf of 
his own newspaper, to mention his discovery to Bates. 
Possibly Masefield’s common-sense view of the problem 
might have been the correct one, after all, in which case 
Bates would have had the laugh of his unprofessional ally. 
But Bates had evidently been called out on other business, 
so that there was no occasion to say anything to him at 
all. Declining to return to Masefield’s rooms and there 
discuss the matter further over tea, Rigby went thought- 
fully back to the office of the Planet. He dined alone at 
his club, lingering till about ten o’clock over the evening 
papers, and then proceeded on his way to Montrose 
Place by the somewhat circuitous route of Covent Garden. 

But there was more method in Rigby’s madness than 
met the eye. The sleek, well-groomed barrister and jour- 
nalist who entered the shop of Jonas the costumier shortly 
after ten o’clock, emerged a little before eleven carefully 
and effectually disguised as a seller of newspapers. Then, 
with the fag-end of a cigarette of doubtful quality in his 
mouth, he slouched along towards his destination. 

Montrose Place from a front view was considerably 
more prepossessing than the similar outlook that presented 
itself from the back. At least half the houses were ten- 
anted by people of means, judging from the neatness of the 
blinds and the amount of light displayed in the various 
windows. Yet, at the same time, it was quite evident that 
Bates’estimate was fairly correct. 

The first three houses in the terrace bore plates of highly 
polished brass, testifying to the fact that doctors were not 
lacking in the locality. No. 4, however, stood out in 
marked contrast to its neighbors. There was no chance of 
Rigby’s presence there exciting undue suspicion, for there 
was not a soul to be seen in the terrace. 


The Yellow Face 


58 

Emboldened by this fact, Rigby had no hesitation in 
lighting a vesta and making a comprehensive examination 
of the door-steps. They were dirty enough in all con- 
science ; no housemaid had knelt there for many months 
or even years past; but Rigby’s sharp eyes did not fail to 
note the fact that some one more than once recently had 
left footprints on the grimy flags. They were not dearly 
indented footprints ; indeed, there was a misty hesitation 
about them which at first puzzled the amateur detective 
exceedingly. 

He struck another match after looking cautiously up and 
down the terrace. Nobody was in sight ; the precaution 
was quite unnecessary ; the blue flame picked out the misty 
footprints grimed into the filthy steps, and then Rigby un- 
derstood. Whoever made those marks had been wearing 
rubber-soled shoes. 

“ And new shoes at that,” Rigby muttered to himself. 
“ I can see the pattern in the centre of the sole clearly in- 
dented now. And the prints go and come up and down 
the steps quite regularly. Now, the fact that somebody 
comes here and wears new rubber shoes makes it clear that 
the wearer has been here very recently. It is also evident 
that the wearer wears rubber-soled tennis shoes so as to 
make no noise. I feel pretty certain that I am going to 
learn something now.” 

But Rigby was a little too sanguine. In the first place, 
he had to gain admission to the house, the front door of 
which was locked. It was perhaps a significant fact that, 
though the lock of the door was green with rust, the edge 
of the rim of the hole where the latch-key indented was 
bright and clear at the edges. 

“Evidently used regularly,” Rigby went on. “ Now, 
the ordinary caretaker does not usually sport a latch-key ; 
he or she generally uses the area door. I should not won- 
der if the area window was open ; I’ll try it.” 

The area window was not open, but the loose catch had 
been carelessly pushed to. The blade of a stout penknife 
sufficed to prize the catch, and a moment later Rigby 


No. 4, Montrose Place 59 

was in the housekeeper’s room, safe from all outside obser- 
vation. 

There was no sign of life here ; no vestige of it on the 
stairs leading to the big rooms overhead. Rigby could 
not but notice what a fine house it was ; the last tenant had 
evidently been lavish in the way of decorations. With a 
match in his hand carefully shaded from the window, 
Rigby crept up the stairs. He could see in the dust lying 
there the constantly repeated footprint of the rubber shoe, 
indicating that the owner of that shoe was in the habit of 
spending a great deal of time there. 

But now, so far as he could judge, the house was abso- 
lutely deserted. He tried door after door softly, and each 
yielded to his touch, revealing gloom and desolation and 
dirt by the faint light of the vesta. As each stump burned 
low Rigby carefully dropped the end of" it in his pocket. 
He was conscious of a feeling of disappointment. Almost 
before he was fully cognizant of that feeling he paused in 
an attitude of rigid attention. Something like the sound of 
a smothered cough struck on his ear ; it seemed to him 
that he could hear somebody approaching. The stair 
creaked, and Rigby drew back into a doorway. 

He was not mistaken. Somebody was coming up the 
stairs. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CHOPIN FANTASIE 

It was nearly two hours later before Rigby crept cau- 
tiously down the steps and emerged by the way in which 
he had entered the house. The street as before was ab- 
solutely deserted ; so far as Rigby could see he might have 
been in a city of the dead. Despite his disguise and the 
artistic make-up of his grimy face, an acute spectator 
would not have failed to notice the agitation of his features. 
He crept with trembling footsteps to the roadway, and 
clung to the railings with a swaying air of one who has seen 
things the tongue refuses to describe. Then his natural 
courage, fanned by the cool air of the evening and the 
sense of being no longer isolated, returned with virile force 
to him. Mechanically he fumbled in his rags and pro- 
duced from a breast pocket a silver cigarette-case, that 
might have got him into serious trouble if a lynx-eyed 
policeman had been near at hand. 

“Well, I have seen some queer things in my time, but, 
as the poet says, ‘never aught like this/ ” Rigby said, with 
teeth that chattered a little. “ I really must have one of 
my own cigarettes.” 

Despite his excitement, Rigby was conscious that he 
ought to be just a little ashamed of himself. He had al- 
ways prided himself upon the fact that his nerves were 
perfectly under control and that nothing ever put him out, 
otherwise he would not have occupied the position he did 
at the Pla7iet office. He began to feel the effect of the cool 
night air, which braced him like a tonic. As he stood 
there waiting for something — though he would have found 
it difficult to say what — a policeman came slowly down 
the street. Rigby stooped and pretended to be busy with 
his stock of papers. 

Some spirit of mischief moved him to chaff the represent- 
60 


The Chopin Fantasie 6l 

ative of the law, and at the same time test to the utmost 
the disguise that he was wearing. 

“Paper, sir?” he asked. “All the winners — horrible 
murder in Grosvenor Square. Ain’t you going to buy 
one? ” 

Apparently the officer was one of the good-tempered sort, 
for he only smiled, and in a more or less gruff voice ordered 
the news-vender to move on. 

“Just waiting for my pal, sir,” Rigby explained. “ I 
have never come down this street before, an’ I’ll take good 
care never to come down here again. Why, half these 
houses seem to be empty. Look at that show opposite. 
’Ovv long since anybody has lived there? ” 

“ Before I came on the beat, anyway,” the policeman 
explained. “ Do you want to take one ? ” 

With a laugh at his own pleasantry the policeman 
stalked off down the street, leaving Rigby easier in his 
mind and quite satisfied that his disguise would stand any 
ordinary test. 

He leaned against the area railings absolutely undecided 
as to what to do next. With a certain new caution almost 
amounting to cowardice — a feeling of which he would be 
ashamed at any other time — Rigby turned his back upon 
the man who was advancing down the street. At the same 
time, so full was he of the horrors that he had lately wit- 
nessed, the amateur detective quite forgot the fragrant 
cigarette so out of keeping with his character. The 
stranger pulled up and, crossing the pavement, tapped 
Rigby familiarly on the shoulder. 

“You are not so clever as you think you are,” the 
stranger remarked coolly. “You may be a very smart 
chap, Dick, and I may be a very dull one, but I have cer- 
tainly sufficient brains to know that the average newspaper 
tout does not smoke Turkish cigarettes. Besides, after our 
conversation this morning, I felt pretty certain that you 
would make an attempt to get inside that house.” 

Rigby laughed in a way that suggested that his nerves 
were in a considerably frayed condition. 

“So that’s you, Jack,” he said, with a sigh of relief. 


62 


The Yellow Face 


“ Yes, you are quite right; in fact, I told you I should not 
rest to-night until I had seen the inside of that house." 

“And did the expedition come up to expectations?” 
Masefield asked eagerly. 

“ My dear fellow, I have had some weird experiences in 
my time, but I would not go through the last hour again 
for the wealth of the Indies. In fact, if I tell you what 
I’ve seen, you would set me down for a doddering 
lunatic.” 

The look of self-satisfaction on Jack’s face faded away. 
He shivered with a strange weird feeling, that strange pre- 
sentiment of something dire about to happen. Again, why 
should he doubt the fact that something terribly out of the 
common had happened to Rigby after his own amazing ex- 
periences ? 

With his hand on the arm of his friend, he walked ab- 
stractedly the whole of the terrace. Here a great arc 
light threw a stream of pallid blue upon the motley color- 
ing displayed upon a big hoarding. In the centre of the 
hoarding, well displayed, was the terrible placard disclos- 
ing the grinning features of Nostalgo. 

“By Heaven!” Jack exclaimed, “there is no getting 
away from the features of that grinning devil. I know 
as well as if I had seen it down in black and white that 
the awful experiences which have so changed you lately 
have to do with that yellow face.” 

“I am not going to deny it,” Rigby replied ; “and, 
what is more, I am not going to tell you what I have seen 
in the last two hours — at least, not at present. And now 
tell me, to change the subject, what is your private opinion 
of Spencer Anstruther? ” 

To say that Jack was taken aback by the suddenness 
of the question would be a mistake. It will be remem- 
bered that on the occasion Masefield last dined with 
Anstruther he had pointed out to Claire the amazing like- 
ness between Nostalgo and her guardian. Not that it 
was possible for anybody to notice this except when 
Anstruther was moved to great emotion; but the fact 
remained. And now to find that Rigby’s mind was so 


The Chopin Fantasie 63 

strangely moved in the same train of thought was, to say 
the least of it, disturbing. 

“ What do you mean by asking that question ? ” Jack 
said guardedly. 

“ For goodness' sake do not let us have any of this un- 
necessary caution between friends like ourselves,” Rigby 
said, with great feeling. “ Believe me, my dear friend, 
I am not asking this question out of idle curiosity. As 
man to man, is he a magnificent genius or the greatest 
criminal the world has ever seen? ” 

Thus put to it, Jack had no hesitation ; indeed, he could 
have had no hesitation in replying to such a direct question 
as this. 

“I am going to speak quite candidly to you,” he said. 
“As you are perfectly well aware, knowing the man quite 
as well as I do, he is, like most geniuses, an exceedingly 
poor man. At the same time, unlike most geniuses, he 
is as unscrupulous as he is clever. I have more than an 
idea that he could tell us all about this affair, but I prefer 
to pose as a person who has come into it by accident, 
and who is only languidly interested. I have had some 
hesitation in mentioning my estimate of Anstruther’s 
character to his ward, but I feel very uneasy so far as 
Claire is concerned. I know for a fact that Anstruther 
is painfully hard up; really, there are times when his 
financial straits are absolutely desperate. This being so, 
it has occurred to me more than once that Claire’s money 
must be a strong inducement to prevent her marrying, 
for instance, myself.” 

“That is by no means a remote contingency,” Rigby 
suggested drily. 

“My dear fellow, to be perfectly frank with you, Miss 
Helmsley and myself have been engaged for the past 
two years. Mind you, this is a dead secret. I have a 
presentiment, call it foolish if you like, that the announce- 
ment of this fact to Anstruther will be the first moment 
of real danger for Claire. But why do you so suddenly 
spring this question upon me ? ” 

By way of reply Rigby drew his companion into the 


The Yellow Face 


64 

comparative shadow of a doorway. He had hardly done 
so before another figure came jauntily down the street — 
a tall, slim figure which seemed strangely familiar to 
Masefield. 

“ The whole place seems to reek of Anstruther to- 
night,” Jack said, “or perhaps it is my disordered 
imagination. But if that is not Anstruther himself, my 
eyesight strangely deceives me.” 

“ If you knew as much as I do, or you had learned 
what I have learned the last hour, you would not be sur- 
prised,” Rigby said. “ However, we will soon settle 
that. I’ll just step across the road and try and sell him 
a paper.” 

Before Jack could lay a detaining hand on the arm of 
his friend, Rigby was half way across the street. In the 
approved raucous voice of the tribe, the amateur news- 
vender tendered Anstruther an Echo. He waved the offer 
aside, and made his way down the street with the air of 
one who has a definite object in view. With a whine 
artistically uttered, Rigby fell back upon the doorway in 
which Masefield was concealed. 

“Anstruther beyond all shadow of doubt,” Rigby said 
triumphantly. “ Now, I am not a betting man, but I 
will lay you any odds in reason that our interesting friend 
enters No. 4. Ah, what did I tell you ? ” 

Surely enough, Anstruther paused in his stride before 
the dilapidated door of No. 4. With one swift glance 
up and down the street to make certain that he was not 
observed, he drew a latch-key from his pocket and dis- 
appeared within the dingy portals. On the still night air 
the click of the latch-key and the muffled banging of the 
door could be heard all down the road. Rigby drew a 
sigh of relief. 

“Well, I think that’ll do for to-night,” he said. “I 
reckon I have had just about as much as my nerves will 
stand. No, I am not going to tell you anything, and I 
have no stomach for further adventures this evening. I 
am going straight to bed, to sleep if I can. Come around 
and see me to-morrow afternoon.” 


The Chopin Fantasie 65 

But curious as he was, and anxious also as he was, 
Jack was forced to decline the proffered invitation. Be- 
sides, he had promised to take Claire to a matinee concert 
at the Albert Hall, to hear a new violinist who so far had 
only performed twice before in England. Signor Padini 
had come to the metropolis with a marvelous reputation, 
but so far he had hardly fulfilled expectations. Still, it 
was not the habit of music-lovers like Claire and Masefield 
to accept a verdict of this kind at second-hand. There- 
fore they had determined to hear the new virtuoso for 
themselves. 

Not that any thoughts of a harmonious and musical 
kind were running in Jack’s mind as he walked home 
to-night. Try as he would, he could not dismiss the idea 
that some grave peril was impending, and that Claire 
was likely to be the central figure of the tragedy. But it 
is the blessed privilege of youth to throw off the haunting 
cares and doubts that assail their elders, and Jack suffered 
little on the ground of sleeplessness that night. 

All the same, the haunting fears were with him again 
on waking in the morning. 

But perhaps Claire noticed something of this, for she 
put the direct question to her lover when he called on 
her the next afternoon. Yet Jack had no intention of 
saying anything for the present. He began to speak 
somewhat hurriedly of the new violinist, Signor Padini, 
and so the conversation lasted till the Albert Hall was 
reached. 

There was nothing particularly attractive in the concert 
generally, and both waited somewhat impatiently for the 
foreigner to appear. He came at length, tall, slim, and 
clean-shaven, and Claire noticed with an amused smile 
that for once she was in the presence of a master who 
eschewed long hair. She turned and whispered some- 
thing to this effect to Jack, who did not appear to be 
listening. 

“Now, where have I seen that fellow before?” he 
muttered. “ Call me foolish if you like, say this man is 
an absolute stranger to England if you please ; but I am 


66 The Yellow Face 

absolutely prepared to swear that his face is quite familiar 
to me.” 

But perhaps it was merely a chance likeness, Claire 
suggested. She was far too interested in the musician 
to take much heed of what Jack said. Evidently this man 
knew his business to his finger-tips ; the way in which 
he handled his bow would have proved that to any critic. 
Claire glanced down the programme ; and no sooner did 
the wild sweeping music come streaming from the strings 
than the whole audience thrilled responsive to the master’s 
touch. He was not, after all, playing the piece standing 
against his name on the programme, but the peculiar 
weird and mournful rhapsodie of Chopin’s that Jack had 
heard Anstruther interpreting two nights before. He 
leaned back; his eyes were half closed with a strange 
sensation that he was listening to Anstruther now. He 
turned to suggest something of this to Claire, and to his 
surprise he noticed that her face was paler than his own. 

“Does anything strike you?” he whispered. “Have 
you a feeling, like myself, of having gone through all 
this before ? ’ ’ 

“Dreadful!” Claire shuddered. “I know exactly 
what you mean. It is the same, precisely the same, as 

if my guardian had crept inside the body of Padini 

There ! Did you notice that particular slur, that strange 
half hesitation ? I declare, I feel certain that this Padini 
was in my guardian’s study the other night. Jack, you 
must get at the bottom of this ; there is some mystery 
here which we must solve, and that without delay.” 

Jack rose from his seat and buttoned his coat firmly 
about him. 

“ Ay,” he said, “ a deeper mystery than you are aware 
of. Stay here while I go behind the stage. I am going 
to see Signor Padini, and get to the bottom of this business 
at any cost.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE MAN WITH THE FAIR MOUSTACHE 

Claire sat there, her mind half on her music and half 
on the extraordinary conduct of her lover. Not that she 
did not trust him implicitly ; but, still, it seemed strange 
that he should have gone off without explaining the cause 
of his agitation. 

Some one next to her touched her on the elbow and 
asked a question as to an item on the programme. The 
question was repeated twice before Claire realized that she 
would have to pull herself together. She replied quite at 
random; then she looked about her, and became cog- 
nizant of the fact that Padini was still on the stage, bow- 
ing his acknowledgments of the thunderous applause which 
had greeted his magnificent efforts. 

Yet a closer glance did not serve to show Claire any- 
thing sinister in the artist’s personality. He was pale and 
clean-shaven, palpably very nervous, and yet pleased with 
the warmth of his reception. Surely there could have been 
no mystery connected with a man like this. 

On the other hand, the marvelous likeness between his 
playing and the execution in the same piece displayed by 
Anstruther two nights ago could not possibly be overlooked 
by any one professing to any musical knowledge at all. 
Claire hoped that the inevitable encore would produce a 
repetition of the same piece. 

Surely enough, Padini came forward and struck the 
opening bars of the same rhapsodie. With eyes closed and 
mind eagerly concentrated on the music, Claire followed 
every passage with rapt attention. There was no longer 
any possibility of mistake. The Padini interpretation of 
the piece was exactly that of Anstruther. Was Anstruther, 
therefore, a consummate master of his art or a showy 


68 


The Yellow Face 


humbug or charlatan ? Could it have been possible that 
this new artist had been concealed in the Panton Square 
library two nights before ? But, on the face of it, this was 
absolutely impossible. Padini had only been in England 
a little over eight and forty hours, and his first appearance 
in London had been at a musical “ at home ” on the same 
night that Anstruther had played the Nocturne in Panton 
Square. 

Claire was still debating this pi oblem in her mind when 
Jack returned to his seat. He looked a little pale and 
shaky, but the grim smile on his face was determined 
enough. 

“ My dearest girl, I am going to ask you a little favor,” 
Jack whispered. “ I hope you won’t think it the least 
rude of me, but I want you to excuse me going back with 
you. Can’t you guess that there is something more than 
meets the eye here ? ” 

“ I should be very blind indeed if I did not,” Claire re- 
plied. “Jack, what is the meaning of this strange mys- 
tery ? Either Signor Padini was at our house the other 
night, or my guardian learned to play that rhapsodie after 
having had lessons from the man on the platform before 
us.” 

“I may be wrong, of course,” Jack said, “but I feel 
pretty sure that I have guessed the problem. That is why 
I want you to go off by yourself, and leave me to play the 
detective so far as Padini is concerned. It is not altogether 
a pleasant job, but I am going to follow that fellow when 
he leaves the Hall.” 

So saying, Jack rose from his seat, and Claire obediently 
followed his example. Once outside, Jack called a cab, 
and gave the driver his instructions. 

“I think that will be all right,” he said. “You may 
expect me to come round after dinner, my darling girl. 
I hope you are not in the least annoyed+with me ; but there 
is danger ahead for you and me, and it is my duty to pre- 
vent it at all hazards. I declare if I had not almost for- 
gotten one of the most important things I had to say to 
you. On no account are you to breathe a word of this 


The Man With the Fair Moustache 69 

afternoon’s visit to your guardian. He is not to know that 
you have been with me or anybody else to the Albert Hall 
to-day.” 

Claire glanced at the pale, anxious face of her lover and 
gave the desired assurance. She felt perfectly safe in his 
hands ; he would tell her all there was to be told in due 
course ; and now for the first time she congratulated her- 
self on the fact that her engagement had been kept a secret 
from Anstruther. 

Meanwhile Jack had returned to the back of the Hall. 
So far as he could recollect, Padini was down on the pro- 
gramme for no further item that afternoon, therefore it was 
only a matter of waiting till the violinist emerged, and fol- 
lowing him to his destination. But Jack had succeeded 
in consuming three cigarettes without any sign of the 
artist rewarding his patience. Taking half-a-crown from 
his pocket, he crossed the road and proceeded to interview 
the stage-door keeper. 

“Oh, that foreign-looking chap, is it?” the stage-door 
guardian said. “Signor Somebody or other who plays the 
fiddle. Why, he’s been gone the last ten minutes.” 

“Gone!” Jack exclaimed, with palpable dismay. 
“Why, I have been watching most carefully for him the 
last half-hour. Was he wrapped up or shawled in any 
way ? ” 

Whilst Jack still stood arguing there a slim young man, 
with fair moustache turned upwards d la German Em- 
peror, passed and repassed him hurriedly. The stranger 
passed into a smartly appointed hansom and vanished. 

“Well, there’s your man,” the doorkeeper exclaimed. 
“He must have forgotten something and returned for it.” 

Jack muttered his thanks, parted with his half-crown, 
and went into the roadway thoroughly puzzled. He could 
not for a moment doubt the word of the doorkeeper, who 
was naturally an expert in a recognition of faces. As a 
matter of fact, the man with the turned-up moustache was 
the same individual who had been so mysteriously con- 
cealed in Panton Square, and who had afterwards accom- 
panied the deaf-mute girl to Mr. Carrington’s. On the 


7 ° 


The Yellow Face 


stage Padini had appeared as a slight, slim man, whose face 
was absolutely devoid of hair. 

Jack stood thoughtfully in the middle of the road, won- 
dering what to do next. His first idea was to go at once 
and look up Rigby. He must have been standing there a 
great deal longer than he had imagined, for presently he 
saw the smart hansom return and take its place on the 
rank. Here was a slice of luck indeed. Jack crossed over 
and hailed the hansom. 

“ Here, I want you to drive me to the office of the 
Planet ,” he said. “I suppose you know where that is. 
Do you want to earn an extra half-sovereign ? ” 

“That’s the way I was educated,” said the cabman, 
with a grin. “ Oh, my last fare, is it ? Well, I can easily 
answer that question. Gent with the cocked-up moustache. 
I have just driven him to 5, Pan ton Square.” 

Jack stepped into the hansom, feeling that luck was en- 
tirely on his side. He knew now that he was on the track 
of something more than mere coincidence. For 5, Pan ton 
Square was no less a place than the residence of Spencer 
Anstruther, Claire’s guardian. Here was proof positive 
that Padini, the violinist, a perfect stranger to London, 
was at any rate on terms of friendship with Anstruther. 
There was nothing for it now but to seek out Rigby and 
tell him all that had happened without delay. Rigby was 
found in his room at the Planet office, mournfully drawing 
skeletons on a sheet of blotting-paper. He nodded 
thoughtfully as Jack came in ; then, catching sight of the 
latter’s eager face, asked what was in the wind. 

“I have been making discoveries galore,” Jack re- 
sponded. “You would hardly expect me to do that 
through the medium of an afternoon concert ; but there 
it is. You have heard of this new violinist, Signor 
Padini, I suppose? ” 

“Oh, yes,” Rigby said indifferently. “Well, a typical 
class of foreign boomster, I suppose.” 

“ That is not the point,” Jack proceeded to explain. 
“ You will recollect what I told you about the empty study 
in Anstruther’s house from which the music proceeded in 


The Man With the Fair Moustache 71 

that strange, unaccountable manner. Naturally, I thought 
the player was Anstruther himself — Anstruther wonderfully 
improved or inspired beyond all recognition ; but now I 
know that such was not the case. Dick, there is some- 
thing devilish in this strange business — the empty room, 
the unearthly music, the strange appearance of that young 
man with his deaf-mute companion, followed so closely by 
the death of Nostalgo. What does it all mean ? ” 

“I will give a thousand pounds to know,” Rigby re- 
sponded. 

“Well, I think I can tell you,” Jack went on. “ You 
will recollect the night before last, during our chance 
meeting at Carrington’s, that I asked you to keep an eye 
on a young man with moustache turned up d la German 
Emperor. Would you be surprised to hear that this young 
man was no less a person than Signor Padini ? ” 

“Impossible!” Rigby exclaimed. “How could you 
prove such a statement? ” 

“ Well, I am going to prove it, anyway. Together with 
Miss Helmsley I went to hear Padini this afternoon. By 
some strange freak of fate he had chosen Chopin’s Rhap- 
sodie in F as his item on the programme. Directly he be- 
gan to play my mind went back to that strange, weird 
music in Anstruther’s study. It was not I alone who 
noticed this subtle resemblance ; in fact, Claire recognized 
it as soon as I did. Mind you, every musician of note has 
his little tricks and fancies which are absolutely peculiar to 
himself. When I shut my eyes, I could literally hear 
Padini playing in Anstruther’s house. 

“ I sent Claire home in a cab, and proceeded to wait 
till Padini left the Albert Hall. I missed him, of course, 
for Padini was a clean-shaven man on the stage. As a 
matter of fact, he must be a very conceited creature, see- 
ing that in private life he wears a fair moustache. I got 
that from the doorkeeper ; but, what is more to the point, 
the cabman who drove me here is the same man who half- 
an-hour ago dropped Padini at Anstruther’s house. Now, 
I would like to know what you make of that.” 

Rigby listened thoughtfully to all that Jack had had to 


72 The Yellow Face 

say. The significance of the revelations was not lost upon 
him. 

“ And yet, I dare say, Anstruther would deny any 
knowledge of Padini if you asked him,” he said. “ Still, 
we know a great deal, and, clever as Anstruther is, he 
cannot possibly conceive the fact that we are so closely ac- 
quainted with his movements. Let’s go and call upon the 
beggar, shall we ? Pretend that we want to consult him 
on some matter of business. Anything will do. Did you 
keep your cab? ” 

“ Well, yes ; it occurred to me that we might want him 
again, and, besides, the driver can prove that he left 
Padini at 5, Panton Square.” 

Panton Square was reached at length ; the cabman had 
been discreetly dropped at the corner of the street. Jack 
rang the bell, which was answered by Serena. In the full 
light of the afternoon sunshine her strange, inscrutable face 
looked more haggard and strange than usual. There was 
the same furtive droop of her eyelids, the same pitiable 
shake of her hands, that suggested the beaten hound, that 
Jack had so often noticed before. He would have given 
much, as a writer of stories himself, to have known the 
secret history of this woman. Docile and tame as she ap- 
peared to be, she was still capable of passionate emotion, or 
the dilatation of her black pupils spoke falsely. Though she 
was meek and friendly enough, there was ever a suggestion 
that she was on her guard. 

“ Your master in?” Rigby asked breezily. “ But we 
know that he is. Don’t you trouble about us ; we will go 
to the study ourselves.” 

Serena stood there as if something gripped her throat 
and choked her utterance. 

“ But my master is not at home,” she protested. “ He 
has not been at home all day ; neither do I know what 
time to expect him to-night. I fancy he is out of town 
altogether. ’ ’ 

“That’s rather awkward,” Rigby said. “We came 
here on business, expecting to meet a friend of ours. I 


The Man With the Fair Moustache 73 

suppose you have seen nothing of him — a tall, slim young 
man, with rather a fierce type of moustache ? ” 

“ There has been no visitor calling here to-day, ” Serena 
replied, with the air of one who repeats a well-learned les- 
son. “Iam the only servant in the house at present, and 
should have known if anybody had called.” 

Jack did not dare to glance at his companion, feeling 
that those dark, interrogating eyes were fixed upon his 
face. A sudden impulse moved Jack ; he decided upon 
trying the effect of a swift surprise. He tapped the woman 
familiarly on the shoulder. 

“ Come, come,” he said, with a jocular ring in his 
voice. “Do you mean to tell me that you have not had a 
visit to-day from Signor Padini ? ” 

A stifled cry broke from the woman ; she clenched her 
hands in an attitude of pain. 


CHAPTER X 

WHAT DID SHE KNOW? 

Nothing was said for a full minute. Serena stood 
there, gazing from one to the other as a child might do 
who finds herself in the presence of two harsh taskmasters. 
There was something pitiable about her hopelessness ; the 
fighting glint had left her eyes ; she stood there downcast 
and shaking as a slave might do. 

“Iam afraid I do not understand what you mean,” the 
woman said. 

In a way Jack was feeling very sorry for Serena. Ever 
since he had known Anstruther and been a friend of the 
household the woman had held a certain subtle fascination 
for him. Though Jack had not made as yet much prog- 
ress in the paths of literature, he had all the quick dra- 
matic feeling which is essential to the making of a success- 
ful novelist. 

It had often occurred to him that so mysterious a figure 
as Serena would have made a splendid character for a 
strong novel. He watched the woman carefully now ; he 
saw how her breast was heaving, and what a great fight she 
was making to keep her emotions under control. 

“I am afraid I must press you for an answer,” Jack 
said. “ Signor Padini Can be nothing to you, and yet 
you start and cry out when his name is mentioned as if 
I had struck you a blow. Now, tell me, was the man I 
speak of a visitor to this house last night ? What time 
did he come? ” 

“ My master’s business is my master’s business,” Serena 
said sullenly. “ He tells me nothing — he tells nobody 
anything. And who am I, a humble servant like me, to 
ask questions of my master ? ’ ’ 

Rigby shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. He began to 
see that there was nothing to gain here. He nodded to 

74 


What Did She Know ? 


75 

Jack and half turned away. But Jack was not to be so 
easily suppressed. 

“ But, surely,” he urged, “ you would be doing no 
harm in telling us if a foreign gentleman called here last 
night ? ’ * 

“I will tell you nothing,” Serena cried. “Why do 
you come and bully a poor woman like this ? ” 

And yet, at the same time, though Jack knew how faith- 
ful she was to her master, he could not but feel that she 
was not antagonistic to Claire and himself. With a sud- 
* den impulse he pushed his way into the hall, followed by 
Rigby. 

“We all make mistakes sometimes,” he said. “Now, 
are you quite sure you have made no mistake about your 
master ? Mr. Anstruther is a law unto himself ; he comes 
and goes as he likes, and it is just possible that he might 
have returned without you being aware of the fact. There 
is nothing to be frightened about ; we are not here to mur- 
der him for the sake of his Apostle spoons.” 

As Jack ceased to speak he made a swift sign to Rigby 
behind the woman’s back, and the latter understood. He 
would go off to the library and see for himself if An- 
struther had returned. As the hall door closed behind him, 
Serena rushed impulsively forward and threw herself head- 
long at Jack’s feet. Her attitude had entirely changed ; 
she was no longer the half-dumb slave of circumstance, no 
longer a mere machine answering to the call of her master, 
but a living, palpitating woman. The change was so quick, 
so dramatic and unexpected, that Jack had no voice of 
protest left to him. 

“For heaven’s sake, do not do it ! ” Serena whispered 
hoarsely; “and, if not that, for your own sake I implore 
you to stay your hand. Oh, I am not so blind and foolish 
as you think — I am not the dull, stupid creature that my 
master takes me to be. You can deceive him where love 
and honor are concerned, but you cannot blind my eyes, 
because I have loved, alas ! too well myself. Do not think 
that I pry and watch, for such is not my nature. And yet 
I know as well as if you had told me in so many words that 


The Yellow Face 


76 

Miss Claire and yourself are something more than friends. 
I cannot speak more plainly because I dare not ; but if you 
would save the girl you love from the terrible danger that 
hangs over her, you will be blind to all that goes on in this 
dreadful house.’ ’ 

The words which had begun so hoarsely and quietly came 
at the finish with the torrential force of a mountain stream. 
Surprised as he had been, Jack’s self-possession had not 
quite deserted him. Hitherto he had regarded the silent 
Serena as an old woman, but now that her face was 
transformed and glowing with emotions he could see that 
she was still comparatively young. He could see also, 
and the fact gave him a vague sense of satisfaction, that 
this woman’s sympathies were entirely with Claire and 
himself. 

“ Will you get up, please? ” he said, and his own voice 
was just a little shaky. “It is not right for a woman to 
kneel to a man like that. Serena, you are not what you 
seem. You are not a servant in the ordinary acceptation 
of the word; you spoke just now like a refined and 
educated woman. You may say that is no business of 
mine, and, indeed, I do not wish to pry into your past, but 
you must see that this matter cannot possibly stop here. 
You denied just now that Signor Padini had been here at 
all. You denied the presence of your master, and yet I 
can hear his voice on the other side of the study door at 
this moment. You will perhaps also deny that you heard 
of No. 4, Montrose Place.” 

It was merely a bow drawn at a venture, but the shaft 
seemed to strike home to the feather. Serena had risen 
painfully and slowly to her knees ; she staggered back 
against the table and contemplated Jack with dilated eyes. 

“Oh, you have gone further than I dreamed,” she 
moaned. “You are a strong, masterful man, and I see 
now that nothing I can say will turn you from your pur- 
pose.” 

“Since you have made up your mind to that,” Jack 
said grimly, “perhaps you had better be candid with me 
and tell me all you know. For some time past I have felt 


What Did She Know ? 


77 


a strong conviction that Anstruther is no better than a con- 
summate scoundrel. Discreet as he is, I have come to the 
conclusion that this is no house for Miss Helmsley. I am 
quite certain that you would find both of us more sincere 
friends than the man you call your master. Why not, 
therefore, leave him and throw in your lot with us? ” 

The woman wrung her hands piteously ; Jack could see 
the tears rolling down her face. 

“ Oh, if I only could — if I only dared,” she whispered ; 
“ and yet I cannot, even if it were only for your sakes. 
If you only knew what was hanging over you — but I must 
say no more. When that man comes to me, when I stand 
before him with his eyes looking into mine, I am compelled 
to give him up the secrets of my very soul. I wish from 

the bottom of my heart that ” 

Serena clutched at her throat with a quivering hand, as 
if something choked her, and rushed impulsively from the 
room. She had said nothing, and yet she had said so 
much. Her very reticence, her hesitation to speak defi- 
nitely against her master, had proved conclusively to Jack 
what a consummate scoundrel Anstruther was. He was 
still debating the matter in his mind when Rigby came 
back to him. The latter did not speak ; instead of that, 
he took Jack by the arm and piloted him quietly and 
firmly to the front door. They were in the street before 
Jack could ask the meaning of this cautious conduct. 

“One can’t be too cautious in a case like this,” Rigby 
explained. “ It was just as I had expected. Anstruther 
was at home ; he, indeed, had not been out all day, which 
fact was proved by his still being in dressing-gown and 
slippers. Our usually self-contained friend had either 
been dissipating last night or he has had disturbing news ; 
at any rate, he was very pale and shaky, and did not seem 
in the least pleased to see me. Not that I think that he 
was in the least suspicious of my visit.” 

“Did you happen to see anything of Padini?” Jack 
asked eagerly. 

“Well, I did and I did not,” Rigby explained. “At 
any rate, the Italian was not in the study, though he had 


The Yellow Face 


78 

been there, from the simple fact that a music case and a 
rather jaunty -looking Homburg hat rested on a side table. 
Did you happen to notice if Padini was wearing a Hom- 
burg hat this afternoon ? ” 

Jack was able to reassure his friend on that point, 
whereupon Rigby proceeded to ask if anything had hap- 
pened during the time he was left alone with Serena. 
Rigby listened with interest to all that Jack had to say. 

“That’s a woman we ought to get hold of,” he said 
thoughtfully. “ Unless I am greatly mistaken, she can 
tell us all we want to know. As a matter of fact, she 
has told us a great deal, though perhaps without knowing 
it. At any rate, from what you say, she is quite aware of 
the fact that something uncanny is going on at 4, 
Montrose Place. I feel perfectly certain that the body of 
Nostalgo was smuggled away via that empty house ; we 
know perfectly well that Anstruther is in the habit of going 
there, and we are equally sure that the very mention of the 
house filled Serena with terror. As we have plenty of time 
on our side, and there seems to be no immediate hurry, you 
and I are going to keep our eye on that place. You were 
very anxious last night to know what I had seen there. 
Well, you have plenty of pluck and courage of your own ; 
you shall come with me presently and verify the thing for 
yourself.” 

“ Do you mean to say we are going to keep a vigil there 
to-night ? ” Jack asked. 

“That’s about the size of it,” Rigby answered coolly. 
“You had better come round to my rooms not a moment 
later than half-past ten. Mind you, we are not going there 
as ourselves, but you can leave a disguise quite safely tome. 
Don’t bring a revolver or anything noisy of that kind ; 
something in the way of a thick stick would be much safer. 
By the way, didn’t you tell me that you were going to see 
Miss Helmsley to-night ? Take my advice, call there and 
dine as if nothing had happened, and directly Anstruther 
makes an excuse to return to his study, slip away from the 
house without the formality of leave-taking and come to my 
place at once.” 


What Did She Know ? 


79 


It was not easy work for a straightforward fellow like 
Jack to sit with Anstruther on the other side of the table, 
discussing trivial topics as if there was nothing grim and 
terrible behind this picture of refined home life. Jack was 
conscious of carrying himself off fairly well, what time 
Anstruther rose from the table with an excuse that he had 
work to do. 

“Please don’t think I am avoiding your company,” 
Anstruther said pleasantly, “ and don’t be annoyed if you 
hear the sound of my violin presently. As a matter of fact, 
my thoughts are always clearest when inspired by the sounds 
of music.” 

Jack muttered something suitable to the occasion, and 
exchanged glances with Claire directly Anstruther left the 
room. 

Just as that genius had prophesied, the sweet strains 
of the violin stole from the study presently. Claire 
listened with an interest which was vivid and thrilling 
beyond words. 

“ Now, listen to that,” she cried. “ Did you ever hear 
anything like it ? Did you ever hear Mr. Anstruther play 
in that style and manner before ? Note the little slurs, 
the half hesitation, which is at once so dramatic and 
artistic. If you close your eyes, you might swear that 
you are listening to Padini himself.” 

“It really is amazing,” Jack murmured. “ Padini to 
the life ; the Italian to a semitone. And yet we know 
perfectly well that it cannot be Padini, because at this 
very moment he is waiting to take his turn at the Queen’s 
Hall concert. Claire, you must try to get to the bottom 
of this. I cannot possibly believe that this infernal jug- 
gling is conceived merely to satisfy the vanity of Anstruther, 
for, in the first place, we form so small an audience. 
There is something behind this much more serious than 
the soothing of a clever man’s vanity. And now I must 
be off.” 

Claire pleaded with her lover to stay a little longer, 
but, mindful of Rigby’s strict injunctions, he was fain 
to refuse. In the light of recent knowledge he had no 


8o 


The Yellow Face 


occasion to feel sure that Anstruther was still on the 
premises, despite the fact of those exquisite strains of 
music emanating from the library. He had not forgotten 
the strange experience in that direction two nights before. 
Still, the sweet, melancholy melody could be distinctly 
heard by Jack as he crossed the road. 

Rigby was impatiently awaiting his friend, and he had 
all the disguises sent up to his bedroom. He listened 
eagerly to all Jack had to say whilst artistically making 
himself up as a news-vender. A glance at himself in the 
glass reassured Jack ; he felt pretty sure in his mind that 
no one could possibly recognize him attired as he was now. 

“What’s the programme?” he asked, completing the 
illusion with a short clap pipe. “ Are we going straight 
away to Montrose Place? ” 

Rigby replied that that was the intention. It was 
getting near to eleven o’clock before the friends reached 
Montrose Place ; so far as they could see they had the 
terrace entirely to themselves. A policeman strode 
majestically down the road, flashing his lantern here and 
there, and finally disappeared from sight. 

“Now’s our time,” Rigby said eagerly; “no chance 
of being interrupted for the next ten minutes. You stand 
at the top of the steps whilst I sneak down and open the 
window. We 'shall have to fumble our way up-stairs, 
because it is by no means safe to use matches. Still, I 
have the geography of the house quite clear in my mind. 
Come along.” 

They were in the grim, dusty house at last. Jack was 
conscious only of the intense darkness and musty smell 
of the place. Carefully piloted by Rigby, he reached the 
second floor landing at length, and there Rigby grasped 
his arm significantly. There was no sound at first save 
the scratching of mice behind the panel or the flutter of 
some ragged blind swayed in the piercing draught. Then 
suddenly it seemed to Jack that a solemn footfall sounded 
in a room close by, a door opened with a pop like a pistol 
crack, and a long slit of light, dazzling in its brilliancy, 
fell like a lance upon the dusty floor. Somebody laughed 


What Did She Know ? 


8l 


somewhere, a laugh that sounded so near and yet so far 
away; then the door opened wider, and a partial view 
of the interior of the room could be seen. 

Utterly taken by surprise, moved and horrified to the 
depths of his soul, Jack could have cried out, but for the 
hand clapped upon his mouth like a steel trap. 

“Not a sound,” Rigby whispered sternly. “For 
heaven’s sake, restrain yourself, and look, look ! ” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SHADOW ON THE WALL 

Jack needed no second bidding ; he was only too anxious 
and eager to follow the direction of Rigby’s outstretched 
finger. He was by no means lacking in the nerve and 
pluck which generally go to a young man of fine physique 
and clean habit. But there was something about the 
whole of this affair, a creeping suggestion of diabolical 
crime, such as one only encounters in the wildest realms 
of fiction. N 

And yet it seemed to Jack that his reading of the daily 
press recalled things just as vile in every-day life. With 
teeth clenched firmly, with a stern resolution to do nothing 
very likely to precipitate what might have been a terrible 
catastrophe, Jack looked into the room before him. As 
the door was half open and the two friends were hidden 
in the blackish shadow, it was possible to watch without 
the slightest chance of being seen. 

For an empty house, dusty and gloomy and deserted 
as it was, the room in front of our two adventurers 
presented a striking contrast to the rest of the place. 
There was no window, or at least, where the window 
ought to have been, something in the way of an iron 
shutter stood, and over this a great wealth of silken 
hangings was artistically arranged. As to the rest of the 
apartment, the furniture was directly in keeping with the 
abode of a millionaire. Jack did not fail to notice the 
rich Persian carpet, the luxurious chairs and settees of 
the First Empire period, the fine pictures on the walls. 
The walls, too, had been recently decorated, so that there 
was not a single jarring note to mar the harmonious 
whole. There were flowers, too, grouped in the corners 
of the room and piled cunningly around the electrolier 
standing on the centre table. 

82 


The Shadow on the Wall 


83 

“Now, that is a strange thing,” Jack whispered. “So 
far as I could see, so far as I can see now, there is no 
sign whatever of the electric lighting in any other part of 
the house. Do you suppose that these people have taken 
this house in the ordinary way, or is it possible that ” 

“Not a bit of it,” Rigby replied. “They’re not the 
sort of people to do anything as foolish as that. Nor would 
there be any occasion to go to the expense. Depend upon 
it, they know all about the character of the owner of this 
property, and that it is not in the least likely to let unless 
put thoroughly in order.” 

“ Then, what about the electric light ? ” Jack suggested. 
“ That would have to be put in by somebody. These 
people could not tap the main, or anything of that kind.” 

“ There’s a much simpler way than that, my dear 
fellow. Dr. Adamson lives next door, and I know per- 
fectly well that he has electric light. It does not require 
much technical knowledge to wire a house, and anybody 
with a small amount of common sense could easily drill a 
small hole through a partition and attach a wire to one 
of the main lines next door. I think that explains the 
problem.” 

Jack had no further question to ask for the moment. 
His full attention now was concentrated on the occupants 
of the room. There were three of them altogether, two 
being dressed like superior mechanics, and were evidently 
there for some purpose connected with machinery. The 
third man, superior in every way to his companions, had 
his back turned to the door, so that it was impossible to 
get a glimpse of his features. He had in front of him 
an ingenious-looking arrangement, not unlike a magic 
lantern or a contrivance for throwing cinematograph 
pictures on a screen. At a sign from him, one of the 
workmen drew back the silken draperies covering what 
ought to have been the window, and a white sheet stood 
confessed. 

“Give me the third slide by your left hand,” the 
operator commanded. “That will do. Now switch out 
the light.” 


The Yellow Face 


84 

There was a click and a jerk, and immediately the whole 
room was plunged in darkness save for the fierce disc 
of blinding light that flashed upon the screen. Almost 
immediately a dazzling disc was transformed to the face 
of a man. Jack clutched at the arm of his companion. 

“ By heaven ! do you see that ? ” he whispered. “ It 
is nothing more nor less than the face of Nostalgo. Do 
you think this is merely a development of some novel form 
of advertisement, or is it possible that these fellows have 
hit upon some novel way of putting in posters ? ” 

But Rigby had nothing to say. He was too deeply in- 
terested in the spectacle before him. It had occurred to 
him for the moment that there might have been something 
in what Jack suggested. It was just possible also that what 
he took to be a large sheet was no more than a wide stretch 
of paper. 

At any rate, there was no hurry. There would be plenty 
of time to ascertain whether the supposed sheet on the wall 
was paper or not. Rigby had made no reply to Jack’s 
cogent question, but he seemed to be quite as interested as 
his friend. 

“ Hang me if I know what to think of it,” he said at 
length. “ It seems to me as if these fellows were trying to 
work out something quite new in the way of lantern slides. 
Mind you, it is just possible that we are mistaken altogether 
in our assumption that Anstruther is carrying out some 
cunning rascality. These men may, after all, be no more 
or less than honest workmen.” 

“ I can’t quite see that point,” Jack replied. “ Honest 
workmen do not, as a rule, come in this furtive way to an 
empty house. Besides, look at them.” 

“ That is all very well,” Rigby argued. “But suppos- 
ing that you were engaged upon some secret process which 
you did not want anybody to know anything about. And, 
besides, Anstruther is quite a genius in his way, and there 
is no reason why he should not be engaged upon inventing 
some new process of lithography.” 

“ In that case,” Jack said, “is it not a strange coinci- 
dence that they should be manufacturing these Nostalgo 


The Shadow on the Wall 


85 

posters? I grant you that Anstruther is absolutely a 
genius, but his talents always take a sinister bent ; in fact, 
I don’t think the fellow could be honest if he tried. Still, 
we have plenty of time to find out.” 

“Do you really think that is paper?” Rigby asked. 
“ It looks to me like it.” 

“ It looks to me like it, too,” Jack said ; “ but we shall 
have to possess our souls in patience.” 

“ Hang me if I don’t go and see,” he said. “ No, I 
don’t see that there is any great danger unless they should 
happen to turn up the light again, and I do not suppose 
they will do that until the experiment is finished.” 

“ For goodness’ sake, do nothing rash,” Jack implored. 
“ From what we have already seen, we have to do with a 
gang who would not hesitate to cut our throats if it served 
their purpose.” 

The thing, after all, was not so hazardous as Jack had 
imagined. Just for an instant, as if by accident, one of 
the shaded electrics on the wall flashed out in a pin-point 
of diamond light. 

“You clumsy fool!” growled the man behind the 
lantern. “ What did you do that for ? You might have 
spoilt all my work by your blundering folly. ’ ’ 

The erring workman grunted out something in the way 
of an apology and a promise that he would be more careful 
in the future. Here, then, was Rigby’s opportunity. He 
knew now that there was no likelihood of the light being 
turned on again for some time to come. All he had to do, 
therefore, was to creep cautiously, wriggling like a snake 
across the floor, until he could touch the huge screen and 
ascertain whether it were paper or cloth. 

He took a penknife from his pocket and opened a small 
blade. So dense was the darkness of the room by con- 
trast with the vivid lane of light thrown upon the screen 
that the journey was practically devoid of peril, so long 
as no one touched the switch of the electrics. There- 
fore Rigby crept along, his nerves braced to the highest 
tension and an exhilarating sense of danger strong upon 
him. He could see now that the white sheet extended 


86 


The Yellow Face 


from floor to ceiling, the edges of it seeming black and 
firm like an iron plate in contrast with the brilliant white 
centre. 

He was close to it now, so close indeed that, with a 
cautious movement of his arm, he could touch the sheet. 
A single prick with a sharp point of his knife gave him all 
the information that he needed. It was a sheet of paper 
surely enough. A moment later Rigby was standing by 
Jack’s side once more. 

“Paper,” he whispered. “Really, this adventure is 
likely to prove prosaic after all. Don’t you think we are 
rather making a mountain out of a molehill ? We know 
that Anstruther is a great rascal, but at the same time he 
is an exceedingly clever man, and, as you know, inclined 
to be secretive. Now, isn’t it just possible that our friend 
has hit upon some new process of photo-lithography, and 
that we are witnessing an experiment to demonstrate the 
value of the new idea.” 

“ I don’t think so,” Jack replied. “ Indeed, since you 
have been away, I have made something in the way of a 
discovery also. Mark well the picture thrown upon 
the screen yonder. You know what it represents, of 
course ? ” 

“Well, naturally. I have seen the diabolical face of 
Nostalgo on too many posters not to be absolutely familiar 
with his ugly mug. Depend upon it, those fellows are 
printing the famous poster in some way known to them- 
selves. Maybe we shall see that self-same sheet on some 
hoarding to-morrow.” 

“ But that is not what I meant at all,” Jack proceeded 
to explain. “ If you are as familiar with the poster as you 
say you are, you will notice a considerable difference in 
this one. In the first place, the face is a little more in 
profile, and surely you must notice the difference in the 
hands.” 

“Right you are,” Rigby replied. “In the present 
instance the hands are half-extended, as if in the act of 
clutching something. Strange that I had not noticed that 
before. What do you make it out to be ? ” 


The Shadow on the Wall 87 

“Hush!” Jack whispered. “I think our ingenious 
friend behind the lantern will explain that for himself.” 

The leading operator in the room gave a short curt sign 
and the brilliant lights flashed up once more. The slide 
was also drawn from the lantern, but the sinister features 
of the dark, repulsive face upon the screen did not vanish 
as might have been expected. On the contrary, the grim 
face frowned down as if it had been brushwork from the 
pencil of some imaginative artist. One of the workmen 
approached the sheet and dragged it to the floor. Then 
the three men in the room bent over the poster and ex- 
amined it critically. 

“ It seems to me that the hand is a little out of draw- 
ing,” the leader of the trio remarked critically. “ Give 
me the paints — the white paint, I mean.” 

The speaker took a brush heavily charged with some 
white pigment and proceeded to touch up the hand. He 
cut this portion from the sheet and placed it in the slide 
of the lantern. Then another large sheet of paper was 
erected in front of the window, and the lights turned out 
again. Almost immediately there appeared upon the disc 
the shadow of a huge, bony hand uplifting a dagger in a 
menacing attitude. A grunt of approval came from the 
man behind the lantern, and once more the lights were 
turned up. 

“There, what did I tell you?” Jack asked eagerly. 
“ I am sure the different attitudes of that man’s hand are 
meant for signs.” 

“ Indeed, it would seem so,” Rigby was forced to 
admit. “We’d better stay here and await develop- 
ments.” 

For the next hour or so the mysterious process of print- 
ing the posters continued. It was exactly as Jack’s in- 
genious mind had forecast. In every instance, although 
the dark and sinister features remained the same, the 
attitude of the hand was different. It was a strange and 
most important discovery that the two friends had made ; 
but, instead of making their task easier, the problem had 
become still more intricate. Was all this part of some 


88 


The Yellow Face 


cunning device for attracting public attention, something 
absolutely new in the way of advertisement, or did it 
signify a deeper and more sinister purpose ? 

Jack recollected now how frequently Anstruther had al- 
luded in his hearing to the ramifications of secret societies. 
With his intimate knowledge of criminality, and having 
every assistance from the police always at his disposal, 
Anstruther’s acquaintance with the seamy side of life was 
extensive and peculiar. But was he now helping the police 
as usual, or was he engaged himself upon some ingenious 
conspiracy for the aggrandizement of himself and his 
satellites ? 

It was difficult to say, it was still more difficult to prove 
anything, seeing that the work of printing was still pro- 
ceeding in silence. If these men would only speak, if they 
would only utter some word which might give a clue to 
what they were doing, the spies would have been more sat- 
isfied. Their only hope was to watch and wait on the off- 
chance of a careless word. 

They were listening so eagerly indeed that they almost 
failed to notice the sound of a footstep which now echoed 
on the stairs. They were so close to the door that any 
one reaching their landing from below could hardly fail to 
make out the outline of their figures. Rigby had barely 
time to drag his companion back into the velvety darkness 
beyond before the newcomer was past them and had en- 
tered the room. 

“How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags?” 
the newcomer cried. “How are you getting on? No- 
body interrupting you — seen nothing of the police or any- 
thing of that kind ? ” 

“No doubt as to who that is,” Rigby whispered. “I 
should recognize Anstruther’s voice anywhere. I told you 
he was at the bottom of this business.” 

Anstruther stood before them, tall and distinguished in 
his evening dress, and there was no sign about him that he 
was doing anything more than pursuing a quite normal 
occupation. 

“ Not at all a bad evening’s work,” he said. “ Are we 


The Shadow on the Wall 


89 

all here, or is Carrington late again ? Confound that fel- 
low ! I begin to wish we hadn’t taken him into the busi- 
ness at all. But I do not think he is at all likely to play 
me false ; it will be a bad day’s work for him if he does.” 

“Carrington, too,” Jack muttered significantly; “that 
is your rich banker friend, Dick. The plot thickens apace. 
It seems impossible for anybody to come in contact with 
Anstruther and retain his respectability.” 


CHAPTER XII 


LOCKED IN ! 

Quite unconscious that his most dangerous enemies 
were so near, Anstruther carefully selected a cigarette and 
lighted it. He proceeded then to make a careful examina- 
tion of the pile of posters at his feet, and smiled his ap- 
proval. 

“ Very good, very good indeed ; those hands stand out 
beautifully. Within a week’s time from now the message 
will have been carried from London to St. Petersburg and 
from Paris to Constantinople. The men I am after cannot 
get away from me. Whatever great capital they are in, 
that poster confronts their eyes like an avenging conscience. 
Then they realize their helplessness and bow to the inevita- 
ble. You may doubt me if you like; but I tell you that 
this scheme is absolutely sure and safe.” 

“ Provided that we have the money to carry it out,” the 
man behind the lantern grunted. “Don’t forget that. 
Clever as you are, you can’t make money by merely hold- 
ing up your little finger. You promised us a thousand 
pounds when we had finished our part of the bargain, and 
that was completed a month ago. Of course, you have 
got the cash in your pocket ? ” 

A frown of annoyance crossed Anstruther’s face. There 
was a clenching of his hands not unlike that depicted by 
the poster of the mysterious Nostalgo ; he made a half step 
forward ; then he seemed to get himself in hand again, and 
smiled carelessly. 

“As a matter of fact, I have not the money in my 
pocket. Things are not going quite as well lately as I 
could have wished, but it is only a matter of a day or two 
anyway; nay, it is only a matter of hours. Is the woman 
here? ” 


90 


Locked In ! 


91 


The man behind the lantern sulkily declared that he 
knew nothing about the woman, and cared less. He asked 
pointedly whether they were to expect Mr. Carrington that 
evening, and, if so, whether his visit was likely to be at- 
tended with substantial results. 

“ I tell you I don’t know,”Anstruther said angrily. “ I 
told him to be here at eleven o’clock, but I suppose he has 
funked it. But the woman is a very different matter. 
Jacob, go into the back room and bring her in here.” 

“Not I,” the man addressed as Jacob replied. “I 
don’t forget the last time we met. She may be milk and 
honey to you, but she is prussic acid as far as I am con- 
cerned.” 

Anstruther stepped to the doorway and whistled softly. 
It might have been a call given to a well-broken dog, so 
careless and contemptuous was it. Indeed, Anstruther did 
not wait to see the result of his summons, but returned to 
the room with the easy assurance of a man who knows that 
his lightest call will be obeyed. 

Almost immediately the two watchers standing on the 
landing were conscious of a shadowy form passing close to 
them. They had no time to shrink back, they had not 
even time for surprise, when a light hand was laid on the 
arm of each and an eager voice began to whisper in their 
ears. 

“Rash to the verge of madness,” the melancholy voice 
said sadly. “I warned you not to come — I implored you 
not to take a hand in this business. I could have settled 
it all for you if you had left it all to me ; but youth ever 
will be served. Won’t you go away even now and leave 
it all to me?” 

There was something so pitifully imploring in the speech 
that the listeners thrilled in sympathy. From the first word 
they had no difficulty in guessing the identity of the 
speaker. It was none other than Serena who was address- 
ing them in those despairing accents. 

“I am afraid you are too late, Serena,” Jack said. 
“Besides, we have some one else to consider in the busi- 
ness. It is possible that your efforts may be successful as 


The Yellow Face 


92 

far as we are concerned ; but we have discovered to-night 
that Anstruther is plotting against the happiness of many 
people who are as innocent as ourselves. I tell you, we 
must see this thing through now. But why stay here, why 
linger, when your tardiness is likely to increase our 
trouble? ” 

At this point Anstruther advanced towards the door and 
whistled again, this time more sharply. With a sigh of 
deep regret Serena walked forward and entered the room. 
In the bright light of the apartment her face looked paler 
and more dejected than usual. Though Jack had seen for 
himself the volcano of passion and emotion of which Serena 
was capable when not under the influence of her employer, 
he could not fail to notice how tame and frightened she 
appeared to be now. It was as if Anstruther possessed 
something like a power over her. Her dark eyes seemed 
mechanically to follow his every movement ; he had only 
to raise his hand and her look followed it. 

“So you have come at last,” Anstruther said. “How 
long have you been in the house? ” 

“I came as soon as you told me, master,” Serena mur- 
mured, like one who talks in her sleep. All will power 
seemed to have gone out of her for the moment. “ Whal 
would you have of me to-night? ” 

Anstruther replied harshly that Serena must know per- 
pectly well what was required of her. Nevertheless he 
proceeded to detail his instructions, which were still un- 
finished when another footstep was heard upon the stairs 
and a newcomer entered. The two watchers outside were 
not in the least surprised at the pale, somewhat conceited 
features of the violinist Padini ; indeed, they were past all 
surprises now. Padini had bowed with an air of exagger- 
ated politeness to Serena. 

“ Ha, ha, my coy fascinator,” he cried, “ so I am not 
to be deprived of the pleasure of your company. I am 
not likely to soon forget the enchanting evening we spent 
together chez Carrington. I am sorry to be late, An- 
struther, but the fact is, your English audiences are not so 
cold as I had first imagined. Positively they would not 


Locked In ! 


93 

let me off with less than four encores. Ma foi, you must 
have had the full value of your money in your chamber 
music to-night. A rare treat for Miss Helmsley ; doubt- 
less she has noticed the marvelous improvement made by 
her guardian in his playing of late.” 

The violinist chuckled as if in the enjoyment of an ex- 
quisite joke. Serena flashed him a glance of bitter hatred 
and contempt. 

“I should like to know the meaning of this,” Rigby 
whispered. “I suppose it refers in some way to the mys- 
terious music which you told me about last night. Do 
you think it possible that Serena could enlighten us on this 
point as she appears to know all about it ? If not, why 
does she look at Padini in that scornful way ? ” 

Any further signs of enjoyment on the part of Padini 
were cut short by an impatient oath from Anstruther. 

“ That is mere child’s play,” he exclaimed. “Very 
clever and all that kind of thing, but an intelligent school- 
boy might have done as well.” 

Jack intimated in a whisper to Rigby that he himself 
stood in the position of the said intelligent schoolboy. 
He had a pretty shrewd idea how the thing had been 
managed, and to what purpose; but there would be time 
enough to explain all that presently. What they had to 
do now was to stay as long as possible, and gather all 
they could from a careful study of the proceedings taking 
place in the room. It was Anstruther who first broke the 
silence. 

“Are we going to stand fooling here all night ? ” he 
exclaimed angrily. “ Padini, get that exaggerated fur 
coat of yours off, and make yourself up to look like an 
English gentleman as far as possible. You will find 
everything necessary in the room at the back of the 
house. The same remark applies to you, Serena. My 
word 1 To think that a woman so pale, so haggard, as 
you are now can make up to look like eighteen and possess 
the beauty of Diana ! What a pity it was you ever left 
the stage ! ” 

The woman’s face flushed angrily. There was a nerv- 


94 


The Yellow Face 


ous tension about her to-night that Anstruther had never 
noticed before. Was she going to be defiant? he asked. 
Did she understand what she was doing when she pro- 
posed to measure her strength against his ? But the flame 
still raged on Serena’s hot cheeks, and her lips were still 
hard and mutinous. 

“Take care you do not drive me too far,” she whis- 
pered hoarsely. “A cat is a harmless creature enough, 
but I read once of a cat that turned upon a man and 
killed him. You dare to taunt me with my past. When 
I think of what that past might have been but for you, I 
declare that I could find it in my heart to kill you. I am 
so weak and timid, you are so strong and brave ; and yet 
even you must sleep at times, and a man asleep is as 
harmless as a babe. A spot of gray powder, a drop of 
liquid no larger than a pin’s point placed between your 
teeth, and the career of Spencer Anstruther is finished.” 

The words were uttered with such dramatic force and 
intensity that even Anstruther refrained from smiling. It 
seemed to the listeners outside that here was a great genius 
lost to the stage. 

“I should not care to encounter that woman’s hostil- 
ity,” Rigby murmured. “Look at the intense expres- 
sion of her face. But, really, I hope she is not going to 
defy him to-night. If she does we are likely to have 
trouble for our pains.” 

But Serena’s outbreak of passionate anger was over as 
swiftly as an April shower. She looked up in the face of 
her master as a dog might do that had been convicted of 
theft. Anstruther smiled with the air of a man who 
merely tolerates a passing anger of a fellow creature. It 
was as if he had caged this woman so that he could watch 
her passions and emotions as a naturalist studies the habits 
and ways of loathsome insects. 

“I suppose you must give vent to your feelings some- 
times,” he said. “And now that you have had a little 
fling we had better get on with our business. You will go 
with Padini to-night to ” 

“ No, no ! ” Serena cried. “ I implore you to spare me 


Locked In ! 


95 


that humiliation again. What have I done that I should 
have to endure all this — what can be possibly gained by 
it?” 

For the first time Anstruther displayed real signs of 
anger. 

“Now, listen to me,” he said. “Once for all, I tell 
you not to speak to me like this again. Do you think I 
have studied you all these years for nothing ? Do you 
suppose I do not know how disloyal you are in your heart 
towards me ? There is one class of woman who has to 
be ruled by fear alone, and you are one of them. You 
will do to-night what I ask you, not merely to-night, but 
by months and years, in and out, it will be for me to order 
and you to obey. And, whilst we are on the subject you 
are to say nothing further than you have already said to 
Mr. Masefield. You understand what I mean?” 

It was quite evident that Serena understood the full 
significance of Anstruther’s speech. Pale as her face had 
been before, it turned now to a still more deathly pallor. 
She essayed to speak, but her lips refused the office. 

“ I don’t quite follow you,” she managed to stammer 
out at length. “ If you accuse me of disloyalty ” 

Anstruther intimated that that was exactly what he did 
mean. It was rather an uncomfortable moment for Jack, 
listening there. He was beginning to fully realize the 
marvelous cunning of the man with whom he had to deal. 
He wondered how it was possible for Anstruther to dis- 
cover the gist of his conversation with Serena that after- 
noon. He was saying something of this in a whisper to 
Rigby when Padini returned to the room. The violinist 
was dressed now exactly as he had been attired two nights 
before when Jack had seen him at Carrington’s chambers. 
His jaunty air for the moment had vanished ; he looked 
suspicious and uneasy. Anstruther’s keen eye noticed 
this as it noticed everything. 

“Now, what’s the matter?” he asked. “Have you 
seen a ghost or something equally terrible? ” 

“No, I haven’t,” Padini replied sulkily. “But lam 
pretty sure there is somebody in the house. I am ready 


g6 The Yellow Face 

to swear that I saw the shadow of a man moving on the 
landing outside." 

With a contemptuous smile Anstruther walked towards 
the door. There was perhaps no immediate danger for 
the listeners, seeing that Anstruther evidently attached no 
importance to Padini’s statement ; but it was just as well 
to be on the safe side. Rigby slipped quietly into a door- 
way leading to a bedroom and dragged Jack in after him. 
Then he closed the door very gently and waited for further 
developments. He had not long to wait, for almost im- 
mediately there was a click of the latch, and Anstruther’s 
receding footsteps melted into silence. 

“Well, that sets your mind at ease," Anstruther was 
heard to say. “ If there are any birds here, I have them 
safely caged." 

With a feeling of apprehension, Rigby laid his hand on 
the door-knob. His worst fears were absolutely realized. 

He and Jack had been locked in the room. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE PARABLE 

There was no help for it ; they could only wait to see 
what circumstances had in store for them. It would have 
been just as well, however, to have known what was in 
Anstruther’s mind when he locked the door. So far as 
the prisoners could judge, Anstruther had spoken with a 
kind of jocular contempt, and had apparently acted more 
to soothe Padini’s nervous fears than as if he had moved 
on the spur of his own suspicions. Rigby had not failed 
to notice this, and Jack was inclined to agree with him as 
they discussed the matter in whispers. At any rate, a 
quarter of an hour passed without any signs without. 

“ Well, my friend, ” Rigby muttered, “ you always were 
fond of adventures, even as a boy, and now you seem likely 
to get your fill of them.” 

“I don’t call this an adventure at all,” Jack replied; 
“ not much chance of action here. The prospect of being 
locked up all night in this cell of a place is not at all 
alluring. Just try that door again.” 

But the attempt proved abortive. It was pitch dark there, 
a darkness like that of Egypt, which could be felt. The 
mere fact of the sense of sight being suspended seemed to 
increase the hearing of the prisoners, for they did not fail 
to note every word that was passing in that room across the 
corridor. It was plainly evident that the business arrange- 
ments which had brought those people here to-night were 
practically finished, for presently Anstruther could be 
heard walking down the stairs, shouting his final instruc- 
tions as he went. A moment later the fine slit of light 
which gleamed like a thread under the door of the vacant 
house died away swiftly, therefore proving to Jack and 
Rigby that the house had been plunged into darkness. 

97 


98 The Yellow Face 

It was a proof also that the conspirators had left the 
premises. 

“I think this is where we come in,” Jack muttered ; 
“we’ll give them another five minutes or so, and then we 
will run the risk of striking a light. I suppose you have 
got some matches in your pocket? ” 

Rigby had purchased an extra-sized box of vestas as he 
came along, so that there was no trouble on that score. 
The liberal five minutes had expired before the scratching 
of a match, and a spurt of blue flame illuminated the 
room. It was by no means an inviting apartment, being 
absolutely devoid of furniture save for a tattered carpet on 
the floor. The carpet had obviously been a good one in its 
day, in spite of the dust which lay so thickly upon it ; the 
decorations of the walls had evidently been an expensive 
business. At the same time, it was quite patent that the 
room had been used for the storage of valuables, seeing 
that the door fitted close and was lined on the inside with 
steel. The window, too, was barred heavily, though it 
was far enough from the ground. 

“Well, we are in a nice mess,” Jack muttered. “ So 
far as I can see, we shall have to wait here till morning 
and then summon assistance by means of the window. In 
the meantime we can devote our energies to making up 
some ingenious story with a view to deceiving the police. 
So long as it is daylight, I don’t think we have much to 
fear from Anstruther and Co. Do you think the light shows 
through the window? ” 

There appeared to be no fear of that, seeing that the 
curtain was a comparatively thick one. Over the mantel- 
piece were the pipe and bracket of a solitary gas-jet. 
In a fit of idle curiosity Rigby turned on the tap and 
applied a match to the burner. Much to his surprise, a 
blue fishtail flame spurted out bright and clear. 

“Well, these people don’t seem to have half done it,” 
he exclaimed; “they’ve evidently tapped the gas much 
in the same way that they tap the electric light, but why 
they want both beats me.” 

“Doubtless for something like business purposes,” Jack 


The Parable 


99 


suggested. “ It is pretty evident that these people have a 
lot of mechanical contrivances here, therefore something in 
the way of heaters would be necessary. My word, how 
close this room is ! M 

Rigby was emphatically of the same opinion. He 
turned off the roaring flame of gas and pulled back the 
curtain from the window. He successfully fumbled for 
the catch, and at length managed to raise the sash. The 
cool, sweet night breeze was grateful to a degree after the 
stifling atmosphere of the room. 

There were no lights to be seen, for the simple reason 
that they were at the back of the house, and looking 
down into a dreary sort of forecourt formed by the houses 
on either side and a big building beyond. As their eyes 
grew accustomed to the gloom, it was possible to note the 
fact that the forecourt had at one time been carefully cul- 
tivated, for a broken fountain could be made out, and 
what appeared at one time to have been a well-tended rose 
garden. 

“There’s somebody down there,” Rigby whispered. 
“ Unless I am greatly mistaken the said somebody is 
smoking a most excellent cigar. Can’t you smell it ? ” 

“ Of course I can,” Jack responded. “These seem to 
be rather an aristocratic type of rascal. If you look across 
to the far corner, beyond that fountain place, you will see 
the tip of a cigar glowing like a star.” 

It was exactly as Jack had said. They could see the 
cigar glowing and fading as the smoker inhaled or exhaled 
the fragrant tobacco, and a moment later they saw some- 
thing more. Out of the gloom there approached the figure 
of a woman, tall, slender, and bareheaded, her dress hidden 
by a long black cloak that reached to the ground. She 
spoke quickly and hurriedly, so quickly indeed that the 
two men at the window found it impossible to follow what 
she said. They could see pretty plainly, however, and did 
not fail to notice the fact that the strange woman appeared 
to be pleading for some favor. She stretched out her long, 
bare arms to her companion in an attitude of supplication ; 
her long-cloak fell away from her shoulders, disclosing an 


UOFC. 


lOO 


The Yellow Face 


“evening dress of some pale, transparent material. There 
were diamonds, too, in her fair hair. 

“What is the use of wasting my time like this?” the 
man with the cigar demanded. “You ought to have been 
at your destination long ago.” 

“ But I couldn’t go, I really couldn’t, until I had seen 
you again. Besides, there is no place like this, and no 
better spot for an interview that one wants to keep a 
profound secret. For instance, it is hardly possible that 
any prying eyes are overlooking us. I can’t imagine 
anybody being hidden in this old house. When An- 
struther locked that bedroom door just now, do you 
really suppose he imagined there was anybody on the 
premises ? ’ ’ 

The smoker responded with a contemptuous grunt ; it 
was evident that he entertained no suspicions on that 
score. 

“ Perhaps I am unduly nervous and excited to-night,” 
the woman went on. “ But I could have almost imagined 
that there were spies following Anstruther to-night. If 
I were alone and had no more pressing thing to do, I would 
go back into the house and unlock that door. Imagine my 
feelings if I really did find two spies there.” 

“ What confounded nonsense you are always talking ! ” 
the smoker burst out. “ I suppose this comes of writing 
poetry. Who on earth do you suppose is in the house ? ” 

“How can I possibly tell? The police, perhaps, or 
perhaps somebody who is interested in Anstruther’s 
beautiful ward, Claire Helmsley. I am fond of Claire, 
and would suffer much so that she should escape injury. 
Really, I could make a story out of this, Richard. I 
would find Mr. Jack Masefield in that room, together 
with his friend Dick Rigby. I would whisper to them 
that it would be safer for them to stay where they were 
for the present, and that later on I would come back 
and release them. Oh, what nonsense I am talking, to 
be sure ! ” 

The smoker affirmed this in a manner none too compli- 
mentary. 


The Parable 


101 


“You are without exception the wildest sentimentalist 
I ever came across. You are trying my patience a bit too 
high. Why don’t you go about your business and leave 
me to mine? ” 

The woman laughed softly to herself as if she was half 
amused by her own secret thoughts. She did not seem to 
notice, or perhaps she wanted to ignore, the brutal out- 
spokenness of her companion. For some reason or other 
it occurred to the listeners that she was trying to gain time. 
At any rate, there was no longer room for doubt that she 
was doing her best to warn the listeners. 

“Can you make nothing of her features?” Jack asked 
eagerly. “My eyes are pretty keen, as a rule, but I can 
discern no more than the shimmering outline of her dress. 
If fortune is on our side presently, we must follow her and 
ascertain where she lives.” 

“That wouldn’t be at all a bad move,” Rigby said. 
“ She may be a sentimentalist, and a poet into the bargain, 
but that does not prevent her from being an 'exceedingly 
clever woman. She is deceiving that bullying fellow in a 
way that is worthy of the best diplomatist.” 

“ She is going to speak again,” Jack whispered. “ What 
did she say? I quite failed to get that last sentence.” 

Rigby replied that he had failed to catch it, too, for the 
words were spoken in low tones which did not carry to the 
window above. The man laughed in the same brutal 
fashion, and begged the woman begone, as she was only a 
hindrance there. 

“I am going,” she said. “Take care of yourself, 
Richard, and don’t imagine that Anstruther is likely to be 
of much use to you when the time of danger comes. He 
has ever been the blighting curse that hangs over us, and 
something tells me that he will be your curse as well as 
ours.” 

The man laughed scornfully. He did not seem to be 
afraid. 

“Evidently that woman is a very great deal cleverer 
than my friend gives her credit for,” said Rigby. “ Don’t 
you see that she was talking to us? Her speech was 


102 


The Yellow Face 


merely a kind of parable. I don’t know who she is or 
whence she derived an inspiration, but one thing I am ab- 
solutely certain about — she knows perfectly well that the 
pair of us are locked in this room, and she is equally aware 
of the fact of our identity. All we have got to do now is 
to smoke a cigarette each and quietly wait till our fair 
friend comes and effects our release.” 

“Haven’t you any idea who she is?” Jack asked. 
“At any rate, there is nothing common about her. She 
speaks like a lady, and is most assuredly dressed like one.” 

“I should think you are more likely to know that than 
I,” said Rigby. “Whoever that woman is, or whatever 
gang of scoundrels she is mixed up with, it is quite evi- 
dent that she knows Miss Helmsley well, and that she is a 
great friend of hers. You must know surely pretty well the 
full extent of Claire Helmsley’s acquaintances. Can’t you 
recognize the voice ? Does not the outline of her figure 
give you something to go on ? ” 

“I am afraid you have me there,” Jack said. “You 
see, Anstruther is an exceedingly popular man, he goes a 
great deal into society, and naturally Claire generally ac- 
companies him. She could not have less than a hundred 
acquaintances she has made in this way.” 

“Then you can’t help me out in this way?” Rigby 
asked. 

Jack was emphatically of the opinion that he could not. 
He ran his mind over a score or two of Claire’s most 
cherished acquaintances. But not one of them tallied in 
the least degree with the lady down below. Besides, the 
darkness rendered an actual recognition almost impossible. 

All the friends had to do now was to possess their souls 
in patience and await the time when their mysterious friend 
should come to their assistance. That she would come 
they felt absolutely certain. She might have been the 
wild, sentimental creature which the man with the cigar 
had called her ; but, at the same time, she had both cool- 
ness and courage, or she would not have hit upon the in- 
genious method of speaking indirectly to them as she had 
done. 


The Parable 


103 

“Unless I am greatly mistaken,” Rigby said thought- 
fully, “ we are going to make a real useful friend here. 
What is that I see down below ? Surely there is something 
like a carriage driven into the yard.” 

Surely enough, it was a vehicle of some kind, painted 
black, and with not too much glittering varnish about it. 
So far as could be seen in the gloom, the conveyance in 
question was a brougham of some kind. It came into the 
yard with a strange suggestion of ghostliness about it, for 
the tires were thickly coated with rubber ; the horse itself 
appeared to be similarly shod. 

“ I fancy we have seen something like that before,” Jack 
suggested drily. 

“Right you are,” Rigby responded. “Of course, one 
can’t be quite absolutely sure, but that looks very like the 
vehicle used by those people the other night. You know 
what I mean — the brougham I saw used by the deaf mute 
and her companions the night we ran against one another 
at Carrington’s.” 

“Right beyond the shadow of a doubt,” Jack said. 
“Who is this mystic conveyance for, I wonder — the man 
or the woman ? ” 

Evidently it was for the woman, for she stood with her 
long wrap fastened closely about her whilst the man with 
the cigar opened the door. The horse was turned round, 
and vanished as it had come, without the slightest noise ; 
indeed, the whole thing might have been a figment of the 
imagination. 

“ I hope that does not mean that our last chance has 
gone,” Rigby suggested. “ But we must have faith in our 
fair friend. One thing is pretty certain — if she means to 
come to our assistance she is not going very far away. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XIV 


NOSTALGO AGAIN 

There was silence for some time between the friends. 
They had speculated as far as possible on the chances of 
the future, and now there was no more to be said. At the 
same time, the situation was not devoid of elements of in- 
terest, seeing that the man with the cigar had not as yet 
departed. Evidently he was waiting for somebody, for he 
lighted a fresh cigar from the stump of his old one, and sat 
down on the edge of the fountain with the air of a man 
who knows how to possess his soul in patience. He sat 
thus for some time ; then he stood up at length with an air 
of strained attention and gave a grunt of relief. Out of 
the shadows there emerged another man, muffled to the 
eyes and wearing a big slouch hat upon his head. 

“So you have come at last/' the man with the cigar 
muttered. “I thought you were going to keep me here 
all night.” 

“It is all very well for you,” the newcomer said. 
“ You can walk about the world with your head held up ; 
you have no occasion to hide yourself from the light of 
day. If only this business was done and over, you would 
never find me in one of Anstruther’s schemes again.” 

There was something exceedingly striking in the voice 
of the speaker ; it was by no means an unmusical voice ; 
the enunciation was clear and defined. But there was a 
peculiar rasping ring in it, a jarring, metallic discord as if 
some one had struck two plates of steel together. It was a 
commanding voice, too, and the man vrith the cigar seemed 
to feel it. 

“ I suppose you know your own business best,” he mut- 
tered in a tone which was plainly intended to be that of an 
apology. “Funny thing, isn’t it, that you and I should 
104 


10 5 


Nostalgo Again 

be conspiring here, within a pistol shot of Shannon Street 
police station ? Those chaps yonder are still scratching 
their heads over the disappearance of the man they call 
Nostalgo. ’ ’ 

The other man laughed ; his voice rang as an echo rings 
in a cave. He laughed again a little more gently. 

‘‘Yes,” he said, “ we could throw a very blinding light 
on that mystery. Have they offered any reward for the 
discovery of the body ? ” 

“Oh, dear, yes,” the other man chuckled. “Two 
hundred pounds and a free pardon to any accomplice not 
actually connected with the outrage. Wouldn’t it be a 
fine thing to earn that reward ? ” 

“ I’ll think it over and see if we can’t manage it,” said 
the newcomer. “ Fancy hoodwinking the police in that 
way ! All the same, I don’t quite like this reward 
business ; it’s just the thing to appeal to that scoundrel 
Redgrave. Anstruther never made a greater mistake 
than when he took Redgrave into his confidence. That 
fellow would do anything for a few hundred pounds.” 

“Well, you will have an opportunity of sounding him 
presently. He is coming to see you about those West 
African bonds. As for myself, I have business of greatest 
importance in the East-End. I only stayed here till you 
came because Anstruther said that it was absolutely im- 
perative for you to have these papers to-night.” 

So saying, the speaker took a small packet from his 
pocket and handed it over to his companion. He turned 
away, and a moment later had vanished into the night. 
The sole remaining man appeared to be restless and ill 
at ease. As he paced up and down the ragged and de- 
serted forecourt, the two friends, cautiously peeping 
through the up-stairs window, could see that he was lame 
and that one shoulder was higher than the other. He 
was muttering to himself, too, in some foreign language 
that conveyed nothing to the listeners. 

He came to a pause presently, and, fumbling in his long 
coat, produced a cigarette case and a box of matches. 

“I wonder if I really dare,” he muttered, this time 


io6 


The Yellow Face 


speaking in English slightly flavored with a foreign 
accent. “ Surely no one can see me; surely I shall be 
safe in this well of a place. If only I could manage 
without matches.” 

But there has been no way yet invented of lighting 
tobacco without matches. As the match flared out the 
stranger’s face was picked out clean and clear against the 
velvet background of the night. As if in full enjoyment 
of his tobacco, the man threw his head back and filled 
his lungs with the fragrant smoke. He had not yet 
dropped the match, so that its rays caught full the up- 
turned face. So clearly did the face stand out that the 
whole action might have been conceived with the idea of 
giving the watchers a perfect view of it. 

“What do you make of that?” Jack whispered ex- 
citedly. “ Don’t ask me to say, because I know the man 
as well as I know my own father. The point is, do you 
know him? ” 

“I should say that everybody in London does,” Rigby 
responded, “ seeing that the face has been glaring down 
on London for the past two months. Yonder man is 
Nostalgo and none other.” 

“ No mistake about that,” Jack said. “ In that strange, 
weird light, what an awful face it is ! And yet there is 
something about it, too, some half-pathetic suggestion 
that almost removes one’s feelings of repulsion.” 

“I have noticed that, too,” Rigby said. “But why 
did you not tell me that our mysterious friend was 
practically a hunchback ? ” 

“But he wasn’t,” Jack protested. “I am absolutely 
certain that the man I found apparently dead close to 
Panton Square three nights ago was as straight and well 
set up as you or I. Why, I helped to put him in the 
ambulance ; I saw his body laid out in the mortuary at 
Shannon Street police station. I am prepared to swear 
that that man was without a physical blemish, and I am 
quite sure that Inspector Bates will bear me out in this. 
And yet that man down there smoking his cigarette is as 
misshapen as Richard III.” 


io 7 


Nostalgo Again 

As to this point there was no question. The man below 
was pacing quietly up and down the forecourt in the full 
enjoyment of his cigarette, and little heeding the curious 
watchers overhead. It was easy to see that, so far as 
physical development was concerned, he had been but ill- 
favored by fortune. One leg was considerably longer 
than the other, causing the fellow to shuffle along with a 
sideways motion not unlike that of a crab. 

“Unless that fellow is a bold contortionist, we have 
evidently two Nostalgos to deal with,” Rigby said thought- 
fully. “And yet it seems impossible there can be two 
faces like that in the world. One thing is pretty certain 
— the supposed dead body you conveyed to Shannon Street 
police station the other night must have been very much 
alive. If we could only get away from here to follow 
him. * ’ 

“Not much occasion to trouble about that, I am think- 
ing,” Jack said. “ This man is evidently a tool or accom- 
plice of Anstruther’s. I am certain we shall see him in 
Panton Square sooner or later. As to the man Redgrave 
they were speaking about just now, I happen to know all 
about him. He used to be in Anstruther’s employ as a 
kind of secretary — a clever, well-educated fellow, whose 
weakness was drink. Ha, here comes another one.” 

Surely enough, another figure crept into the forecutro. 
Nostalgo, if he it was, paid no heed to the stranger for 
a moment or two. In a half-timid fashion the man who 
had just entered the forecourt bowed to his misshapen 
companion and intimated that he awaited his pleasure. 
Nostalgo turned upon him with a snarl. 

“ So they have sent you, after all,” he said. His clear, 
ringing voice vibrated with contempt. “ Is this the best 
thing Anstruther can do at a critical moment like this? 
I want a man, not a miserable coward like you. Besides, 
I don’t trust you ; I never shall trust you again. And, 
unless I am greatly mistaken, you have been drinking.” 

“We are in luck again,” Jack whispered. “This is 
the very man I spoke about, Redgrave in the flesh. Are 
we going to learn anything, I wonder? ” 


io8 


The Yellow Face 


The newcomer protested whiningly that not one drop 
of ardent liquor had passed his lips that day. 

“You miserable, prevaricating hound!” Nostalgo 
cried. “ Go back to Anstruther, and say that I will have 
none of you. Tell your master that my time is short, and 
that an hour from now will make all the difference. He 
knows that I dare not stay; he knows what hideous 
disaster even the slightest delay may produce, and yet he 
sends you of all men to help me in this crisis.” 

“But Anstruther cannot possibly do anything else,” 
Redgrave whined. “It is absolutely imperative that he 
should be at Carrington’s by midnight. Carrington is 
not to be trusted ; he wants watching as carefully as a cat 
watches a mouse. You will have to put up with me, sir.” 

Nostalgo paced up and down the dreary forecourt with 
the air of a man who is deep in thought. His limp and 
straggling gait was by no means lost upon the watchers 
overhead. He came to a halt at length and sat on the 
edge of the broken fountain, his head upon his hands, 
deeply immersed in thought. He might have been a 
graven statue, so rigid and still was his figure. 

The effect of this upon the cowering, watching Redgrave 
was peculiar. There was something of the cat in his own 
movements as he came inch by inch nearer to Nostalgo. 
It was as if a child was timidly making overtures to a 
dog of uncertain temper. Near and nearer Redgrave 
came, till he was standing directly over the bent figure 
of his companion. He might have been miles away for 
all the heed that Nostalgo gave him. 

Then quick as thought, and with a snarling, savage 
cry that echoed strangely between the four walls of the 
forecourt, Redgrave fell furiously and with headlong 
impetuosity upon the doubled-up figure of his prey. 

“I have got you now, you misshapen devil!” he 
screamed. “You are going to be worth at least two 
hundred pounds to me to-night.” 

Utterly taken by surprise, Nostalgo collapsed under the 
sudden and furious assault. Something gleamed and 
flashed in the uncertain light, and the horrified onlookers 


Nostalgo Again 109 

from the window above saw that Redgrave had a knife 
in his hand. 

“You poisonous scoundrel !” Rigby yelled. “Drop 
it, I say — drop it, or it will be the worse for you.” 

But Rigby might have been speaking to the wind. He 
yelled again and again, yet the two men below, locked in 
a deadly embrace, did not appear to heed ; indeed, it was 
more than probable that they could hear nothing at all. 
More by great good fortune than anything else, Nostalgo 
had managed to grip the hand that held the knife and 
was holding it in a tenacious clutch. Over and over the 
pair rolled, like two hungry dogs fighting for a bone, their 
clothes torn and mud-stained, their features grimed almost 
beyond recognition. It was a grim and gruesome sight to 
the two eager watchers. A sense of helplessness, a wild 
desire to do something was upon them ; but they might 
just as well have been fettered prisoners for all the use 
they were. 

“If only we could open this door,” Rigby sighed pas- 
sionately. “If only that mysterious lady could come to 
our assistance.” 

It was like a prayer that was answered. There was a 
click, a sudden wide swinging open of the door, and the 
lady in evening dress came headlong into the room. 

“Quickly, quickly!” she panted. “Oh, it does not 
matter who I am or where I came from ! If you would 
not have the destruction of a man’s soul on your con- 
science, come with me at once.” 


CHAPTER XV 


LADY BARMOUTH 

Quick as the whole thing had been, the action on the 
part of the fair stranger had not taken Rigby by surprise. 
He had half expected some development of this kind ; he 
was ready for the dramatic moment, and took full ad- 
vantage of it. Almost before the lady was in the room he 
had applied a match to the gas burner, and turned it full 
on. There was a quick, flashing vision of some one mag- 
nificently attired, for the white diaphanous drapery and 
the gleaming diamonds showed from where her wrap had 
parted at the neck. Perhaps she dimly comprehended the 
significance of Rigby's manoeuvre, for she turned some- 
what scornfully from the hissing gas jet. 

“Oh, there is no time for that!” she cried. “It 
can matter little or nothing who I am, at any rate for the 
present. Did you follow me just now? I hope you un- 
derstood that I was speaking to you? ” 

“We gathered that, madam,” Rigby said politely; 
“ but really we are wasting time in idle compliments.” 

The stranger’s face fairly beamed with gratitude. She 
turned and pointed in the direction of the door. There 
was no need whatever for further words ; the friends knew 
exactly what she wanted. 

The gesture was eloquent enough. The lady who had 
so strangely and unexpectedly come to the assistance of 
the friends intimated to them as plainly as words could 
speak that there was no time to be lost, and that the sooner 
they were off the premises the better. Jack did not wish 
to delay ; he had no desire to be caught like a rat in a 
trap, nor for a moment did he forget the fact that this 
woman who spoke in parables had risked much to come to 
their assistance. On the other hand, Rigby, being cooler 
no 


Ill 


Lady Barmouth 

and more collected than his friend, and, like a journalist, 
more prone to go into details, was disposed to linger for 
explanations. His hesitation was by no means lost on the 
fair stranger. Once more she pointed to the door, this 
time with an imperious gesture. 

“ Oh ! why do you hesitate? ” she murmured. “ Why 
do you stand like a schoolboy staring into a shop window ? 
I know you are here for some desperate purpose ; I can 
more than guess the reason for your visit. You are men 
of intellect and understanding, therefore you must clearly 
see the danger of even an instant’s delay.” 

The lady turned away as if she had finished. Jhck 
might have found it in his heart to be a little ashamed of 
Rigby, but, after all, the temptation to give way to curi- 
osity was absolutely overwhelming. Jack pulled himself 
together at length, and dragged angrily at Rigby’s arm. 
He felt just a little inclined to flush under the contemptu- 
ous gaze of their beautiful rescuer. 

“ Oh, do come along,” he said. “ My dear Dick, you 
are positively guilty of bad taste in this matter.” 

“ Really, I beg your pardon,” Rigby said humbly. 
“ But you can quite understand my feelings. Good-night, 
madam.” 

Despite the wild hurry-scurry and the excitement of the 
moment, Jack had not failed to notice the exquisite beauty 
of the strange woman’s face. She was quite young, about 
twenty-five or thereabouts, and yet her fair face, without a 
line or wrinkle in it had a suggestion of the Madonna, as 
of one who had suffered much. She flew down the 
stairs, heedless of the darkness, and into the forecourt be- 
yond. 

“Pray to heaven we are not too late,” she said. “ It 
seemed to me just now that I was barely in time, but 
surely ” 

The woman stopped, and passed her hand across her 
face just as one does who wakes from an evil dream. 
And in sooth she had cause enough for her astonishment. 
Where two bodies had been locked in a death struggle a 
minute before, only one remained now. The other had 


112 


The Yellow Face 


vanished utterly. And it needed only a cursory glance to 
see that the form lying there was not the misshapen out- 
line of Nostalgo. 

“This is amazing,’' the fair stranger said, as she bent 
over the body of the unconscious man. She did not ap- 
pear to be the least afraid now ; all her coolness had come 
back to her ; she suggested a trained nurse on the battle- 
field. “ Surely my eyes did not deceive me, surely I saw 
two men in a death struggle there as I came into the court- 
yard ? ’ ’ 

“There is not the slightest doubt about that,” Jack 
murmured. “ Why, we were actually watching the fight 
at the very moment you opened the door. Do you know 
who this fellow is? ” 

The lady shook her head, but Jack noticed that she did 
not repudiate all knowledge of the stricken man. 

“I can tell you if you want to know,” she said, “but 
we can discuss that point later on. What we want to 
know now is how far this man has suffered from his in- 
juries.” 

Heedless of the dust and dirt, heedless of her re- 
splendent attire, the lady had thrown herself on her knees 
beside the prostrate body. She laid her hand upon his 
heart, and bent her head down listening intently. 

“At all events he is not dead,” she said, “ neither can 
I see any sign of a wound. He has evidently been 
stunned by some tremendous blow. Ah ! see, he stirs.” 

The injured man opened his eyes in a feeble, spasmodic 
kind of way, and gazed languidly about him. Rigby, 
fully alive to the possibilities of the situation, grasped Jack 
by the arm. 

“My dear fellow,” he exclaimed, “you say you know 
that man, and naturally he knows you. Do you think it 
wise to remain in sight, and thus give him a chance to 
recognize you ? ” 

Redgrave lay as if lost to all consciousness once more. 
Despite her dreamy, Madonna-like face, the strange lady 
was not blind to the danger of the situation. 

“I think you are quite right,” she whispered hurriedly. 


Lady Barmouth 113 

u It would never do for this man to recognize you. I feel 
sure that heaven has sent you both to be my friends in 
the hour of my deepest despair. Who and what I am can 
be explained presently. But that man is coming to very 
fast, and it were far better if he did not see you.” 

Rigby nodded his emphatic approval. Together with 
Jack he withdrew behind the shelter of a clump of bushes 
where it was possible to hear everything without being 
seen. Meanwhile Redgrave had raised himself to a sitting 
position, and, with his back to the fountain, was stupidly 
contemplating the fair figure before him. 

“I suppose you can understand what is said to you ? ” 
the lady asked. “ For instance, you can tell me what 
brings you here to-night?” 

“ I dare say I could if I liked,” Redgrave groaned, “ but 
I am not going to do anything of the kind. This comes 
of having women mixed up in a business like ours.” 

“ Woman or not, that has nothing to do with your mur- 
derous assault on a harmless stranger just now. It is ab- 
surd for you to deny any knowledge of me. You have 
heard of Lady Barmouth before.” 

Behind the shelter of the bushes Jack nipped Rigby’s 
arm significantly. He had learned something now. 

“ Did you hear that ? ” he whispered. “ Of course you 
have heard of Lady Barmouth often enough. I have never 
met her myself, but I have often heard Claire speak about 
her. A beautiful South American girl, I believe, married 
to a sulky brute who never goes outside his house from 
one year’s end to another. I don’t know whether he 
drinks or what it is, but I fear that Lady Barmouth has a 
very bad time of it.” 

Jack would have probably volunteered more information 
on this point, only the cross-examination of Redgrave had 
begun again, and he did not wish to miss a word that he 
said. 

“It is idle to prevaricate with me,” Lady Barmouth 
was saying. “ I will ask you nothing as to your late en- 
counter, because it is evident that you had greatly the 
worst of it, and that your would-be victim has escaped. 


ii4 


The Yellow Face 


But what is more to the point, I want to know what has 
become of my brother ? ’ ’ 

“ Your brother ! ” Redgrave stammered, as if utterly 
taken aback by the suddenness of the question. “I — I 
don’t know in the least what you mean.” 

“ Oh, what is the use of wasting your time and mine 
like this?” Lady Barmouth cried. “ My brother came 
here by special appointment to meet Mr. Spencer An- 
struther, and I came on my own self-initiative to see what 
my brother was doing.” 

Here was fresh information for Jack and his companion. 
It mattered little for the present who Lady Barmouth’s 
brother was, but evidently she had greatly mistrusted him ; 
hence her appearance in the courtyard to-night. It was, 
therefore, by no means difficult for the friends to guess 
that the aforesaid brother had been the man who had so 
lately accused Lady Barmouth of being a sentimental fool. 
The night’s work was being by no means wasted. 

“I know nothing whatever about your brother,” Red- 
grave said sulkily, ‘‘and I know nothing about Anstruther 
either. The man who was here just now — the man who 
made that murderous attack on me, I mean — was a perfect 
stranger. But this is no place for a lady like you ; you 
had better go home, and keep out of this sort of scrape for 
the future.” 

So saying, Redgrave scrambled painfully to his feet, 
and lurched off in the direction of the doorway leading to 
the lane beyond. It was only when they were satisfied 
that he had absolutely departed, that Rigby and Mase- 
field emerged from their hiding place and joined Lady 
Barmouth. There was a sad, wistful expression on her 
face. 

“ You heard all that,” she said. “ Mind you, I am as- 
suming that you are no parties to the vile conspiracy of 
which Anstruther is the head. I should like to have 
your assurance on that point before I proceed any fur- 
ther. ’ ’ 

“ If there is one man in the world whom we desire to 
expose and render harmless for the future, it is Spencer 


Lady Barmouth 115 

Anstruther,” Jack said vehemently. “ But how did you 
know we were here at all ? ” 

“ Because I happened to be in the house when you 
came,” Lady Barmouth explained. “I caught sight of 
your faces as you moved in front of the light proceeding 
from that room up-stairs, and I divined by a sort of instinct 
that you did not belong to Anstruther’s gang. Then it 
came to me that I had seen one of you gentlemen before 
in the company of Miss Helmsley. I think, sir, I may be 
pardoned if 1 assume that Miss Helmsley is something 
more than a friend of yours.” 

“To be perfectly candid with you, we are engaged to 
be married, only it is a profound secret at present,” Jack 
explained. “ After telling you so much, I think you might 
be equally candid with us.” 

“Indeed I will ! ” Lady Barmouth exclaimed. “Any 
one to whom Claire Helmsley has given her heart must be 
a good and true man. As I told you just now, I saw you 
on the stairs ; I also heard what that strange man said 
about there being spies in the house ; I saw you creep into 
the room, and I saw Anstruther lock the door upon you. 
The rest you know for yourselves.” 

“ But that does not explain why you are here,” Rigby 
ventured to suggest. 

“ Why I am here to-night I cannot even tell you,” Lady 
Barmouth said, in low, nervous tones. “ The secret is 
not mine ; it concerns one I love more than anybody else 
in the world. One thing I can tell you : Claire Helmsley 
is in great danger so long as she remains where she is liv- 
ing now. You must get her away, Mr. Masefield ; you 
must get her away at any cost.” 

Jack nodded gravely; he had not been blind to this 
danger for some time. What he wanted to know now was 
if Lady Barmouth had any idea of the identity of the man 
who had successfully got the better of Redgrave. But on 
that head Lady Barmouth could say nothing ; she had re- 
turned for the express purpose of relieving Masefield and 
Rigby from their awkward situation, and in so doing she 
had come quite unexpectedly upon the combatants. Even 


The Yellow Face 


1 16 

in the dim light she had seen that a murderous struggle 
was taking place, and this being so, had hastened head- 
long up-stairs with a view to securing assistance. More 
than this she could not possibly say. 

“ What we want to do,” Rigby suggested, “ is to go 
away quietly somewhere, and discuss this matter thor- 
oughly. I need not point out to your ladyship the mani- 
fest danger of staying here. Anstruther or any of his tribe 
may be back at any time, and then we shall be caught like 
rats in a trap." 

“That matter is easily settled,” Lady Barmouth replied. 
“Could you come home with me? It is by no means late 
yet, and you would not be long in getting rid of those dis- 
guises of yours. They are excellent disguises, but they 
did not prevent me recognizing you, Mr. Masefield.” 

“There is no deceiving a clever woman,” Jack smiled. 
“I should like nothing better than a chance to discuss this 
matter at length — but Lord Barmouth ? Would he not 
think it somewhat singular that two strangers like our- 
selves ” 

“ Nothing of the sort ! ” Lady Barmouth cried eagerly. 
“My husband never goes outside the^ house; he is suffer- 
ing from a trouble so terrible that I try not to think of it 
if I can. I may, however, tell you that his trouble is in- 
timately connected with the black business that brings us 
here to-night. It may seem to you that I am a mere 
frivolous society butterfly. Ah, if you only knew ! ” 

The trio had worked their way into the street by this 
time. A private hansom stood a little way down the road. 
Lady Barmouth smiled a little as she contemplated her two 
companions. 

“ I am afraid we should be a suspicious-looking party 
in the eye of a passing policeman,” she said. “No, I 
think it would be just as well if I walked to my hansom 
alone. Then you can go back to your rooms and attire 
yourselves as English gentlemen should be attired at this 
time of the evening. Then you can come to my house ; I 
will tell the servants I am expecting two friends to supper. 
You know the address.” 


Lady Barmouth 1 1 7 

Jack intimated that he knew the address perfectly well. 
The suggestion was by no means a bad one ; there could 
be no possible suspicion aroused by the fact that Lady 
Barmouth was having two friends to share her late meal. 
The clocks were striking twelve as Jack and his companion 
walked up the steps of the big house in Belgrave Square. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE BOSOM OF HER FAMILY 

A resplendent footman took the names of the callers, 
and preceded them to the drawing-room. It was no un- 
common thing for Lady Barmouth to invite a score or so 
of friends to supper after a reception or theatre. The foot- 
man intimated that his mistress was alone now, and that 
she was at present in the hands of her maid ; therefore the 
callers had ample time to study the surroundings of so 
mysterious a person as Lord Barmouth. 

That remarkable man, as everybody knew, had only 
been married a little over two years. Two years ago he 
himself had been a more or less popular figure in society. 
In the first place he was exceedingly rich, by no means ill 
looking, in fact he was a remarkably fine type of an all- 
round athlete. He was a triple blue at Oxford, a wonder- 
fully keen shot, and a dashing polo player. At his house 
in the Shires his hunters were noted, as likewise were his 
coverts. Two years ago any man would have esteemed it 
a privilege to call himself Lord Barmouth’s friend, and be 
free of his guns and his horses. 

But now all this was changed. Barmouth had gone 
away to South America with a view of something new in 
the way of sport. Naturally his movements were followed 
carefully by the society papers. They chronicled all his 
doings faithfully, and presently Belgravia was officially in- 
formed of the fact that Barmouth was in Mexico, where he 
had become engaged to be married to the daughter of a 
settler there — an Englishman of good family who had 
taken unto himself a Mexican wife. Three months later 
the announcement of Barmouth’s marriage was in the 
Times. It was understood that he was not coming home 
quite yet ; indeed, something like two years elapsed before 
118 


The Bosom of Her Family 119 

the big house in Belgrave Square was set in order for the 
owner and his bride. 

The strange whisperings and muttered scandal began at 
once. But on one point society was in perfect accord — 
whatever trouble hung over the household, it could not 
possibly be a fault of Lady Barmouth’s. The woman was 
a lady to her finger-tips ; she took her part naturally and 
easily in society ; she fell into her place like one to the 
manner born. As everybody expected, there was nothing 
lacking in the lavish hospitality which had always been a 
tradition of the Barmouths. Men went down to their 
country houses in the winter to shoot and hunt, men and 
women came to Belgrave Square to lunch and dance and 
dinner — there was no more popular figure in society than 
Lady Barmouth. 

And there it seemed to end. From the day of his 
arrival in England until the present moment not a soul 
had looked upon Lord Barmouth with the exception of his 
wife and his faithful valet. What was the source of the 
trouble nobody knew, and nobody guessed. It was in 
vain to try to bribe the servants, for they were just as much 
in the dark as anybody else. It was perhaps a mistake to 
say that nobody had ever seen Lord Barmouth, for oc- 
casionally he entered the dining or drawing-rooms when 
some very old friends were there, but previous to his entry 
the lights were always turned out. Whether this was due 
to some strange form of disease, or perhaps some phase of 
madness, was a point never explained. Lady Barmouth, 
beyond a cold statement that her husband was suffering 
from a peculiar malady, said nothing, and, indeed, it would 
have been in very bad taste to have asked. It had only 
been a nine days’ wonder after all, and it mattered little 
to society in general so long as the hospitality of the house 
of Barmouth did not suffer. 

It was under the roof of a man like this that Rigby and 
Jack found themselves as a fitting end to a night of amaz- 
ing adventure. There was nothing to denote a discordant 
spirit in the house. Here was the magnificent suite of 
drawing-rooms brilliantly lighted and luxurious to a 


120 


The Yellow Face 


degree, on the walls of which were pictures of price. 
There was about the house the decorous, smooth, velvety 
silence which seems to be tradition in all well-ordered 
establishments. It seemed almost impossible to believe 
that the sinister wing of tragedy should hang over a home 
like this. A few minutes later Lady Barmouth came into 
the room. 

“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, “ but 1 
have been having a little chat with my husband. As I 
have already intimated to you, his misfortunes are not 
altogether unconnected with this Anstruther business. My 
dear husband has suffered cruelly at the hands of certain 
people ; indeed, so cruelly has he suffered that he seems to 
have lost all life and hope altogether. Ah, if you had 
only seen him as I saw him for the first time two years ago ! 
There is one thing, however, I will ask you to do — pray do 
not say a word to him as to the circumstances in which we 
met to-night.” 

“ Then we are to have the pleasure of seeing Lord 
Barmouth,” Jack exclaimed. “ I quite understood that 
he ” 

“ This is an exceptional case altogether. In the strict 
sense of the word you will not see my husband, but he 
desires the privilege of a few words with you. Now, let 
us go into the dining-room and talk this matter over. 
There will be no servants present — it is the one meal of 
the day which I prefer to partake of without the presence 
of one’s domestics.” 

The dining-room was not the usual apartment devoted 
to state feasts, but a small room on the first floor, cozily 
and comfortably furnished, and more with an eye to con- 
fidences than anything else. The servants were absent as 
Lady Barmouth had intimated, so that it was possible to 
discuss the events of the evening without the chance of 
being overheard. 

“ Now tell me candidly,” Lady Barmouth said at 
length, “ have you any ideas to offer as to that mysterious 
disappearance from Shannon Street police station ? I am 
asking you this, Mr. Masefield, because it was you who 


121 


The Bosom of Her Family 

actually found the body of the man who most people speak 
of as Nostalgo. Really, now, was that unfortunate man 
so very like the wonderful poster of which London has had 
to say so much of late ? ” 

“ The likeness was amazing,” Jack explained. “ It 
quite frightened me. Talking about the poster in ques- 
tion, there is another likeness that I have not failed to 
note. Of course, if you put the man I mean and the 
poster side by side, nobody could possibly see the re- 
semblance. But in moments of anger, there is a strong 
likeness between the poster and Spencer Anstruther. 
Don’t laugh at me, Lady Barmouth ; I assure you it is ab- 
solutely true.” 

But Lady Barmouth was by no means in the way of 
laughing at Masefield. Her pale face took on a still more 
creamy pallor, the pupils of her dark eyes were strangely 
dilated. 

“ That is a most strange and wonderful thing,” she 
said, as if speaking to herself. “ Mr. Masefield, it is most 
fortunate that we met to-night. You have just told me 
something which will prove of the utmost value later on. 
We will not discuss that now, there is no time. But there 
is one thing that I am going to ask you to do for me ; 
I want you to influence Claire Helmsley in my favor. I 
have taken a great fancy to her ; indeed, I like her far 
more than any girl in London. This is all the stranger 
because I believe I am in a position to do her a great 
service. I know that I am in a position to do her one. 
But one stipulation I make, and that is — she must be told 
everything.” 

Jack hesitated. It would be indeed a dangerous thing 
to acquaint Claire with all that had happened so long as 
she was under the same roof as Spencer Anstruther. She 
was not accustomed to restrain her feelings and emotions, 
and with his swift, subtle instincts, Anstruther would find 
out that there was something wrong immediately. Jack 
pointed this out to Lady Barmouth at some length. 

“ I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully. “ Claire is a 
clever girl, she is in splendid health, and not the least 


122 


The Yellow Face 


likely to fear Anstruther or anybody else. It is, of course, 
not nice to have to play a part, but think of the informa- 
tion that Claire could glean for us so long as Anstruther 
regards her as little more than a child and behaves to her 
accordingly.” 

“ Believe me, I am only too anxious to get at the bottom 
of this dreadful business,” Jack said earnestly, “ and there 
is nobody more anxious than I am to get Claire outside the 
sphere of Anstruther’s influence altogether. Still, I am 
quite willing to try. I will see Claire to-morrow, and tell 
her everything. ’ ’ 

Lady Barmouth’s face beamed with a delight that was 
almost childish. She looked and acted like one who had 
had a great weight taken off her mind. That Jack had 
come to a wise decision she felt certain. She was saying 
so, speaking very briskly and freely, when the lights of the 
room were extinguished by some invisible agency, and the 
apartment left in utter darkness save for the wood-fire 
which smouldered on the hearth. 

“I do hope you have all finished,” Lady Barmouth 
cried. “It is quite evident that my husband thinks so, or 
the lights would not have been extinguished by turning off 
the switch outside the door.” 

Both Jack and Rigby muttered something to the effect 
that they had finished. Lady Barmouth produced a tiny 
silver spirit lamp from the sideboard, the blue flame of 
which was little larger than a pin’s point, sufficient to light 
a cigarette, but insufficient to illuminate a scrap of paper a 
foot away. In silence the cigarettes were handed round, 
and the well-trained voiceof a servant was heard announcing 
Lord Barmouth. A closely muffled figure crept into the 
room, and proceeded to bury itself in a big armchair by 
the side of the wood-fire. 

“These are my friends, Mr. Rigby and Mr. Masefield,” 
Lady Barmouth said cheerfully. “ I have told them that 
you would like to have a few words with them, George. 
You will find these gentlemen willing to speak quite 
freely.” 

“That is indeed good of you.” The deep, clear ring- 


123 


The Bosom of Her Family 

ing voice came from the fireplace. “ I have been praying 
for something like this for the last twelve months. Still, 
it is more with Mr. Masefield than Mr. Rigby that I wish 
to speak. You have made a great discovery to-night, I 
understand. You have found out the source of those 
Nostalgo posters ? ” 

“ I think I have done more than that,” Jack explained. 
“ I have not only discovered their source, but I know 
where they are printed, and the process of their manu- 
facture. If you like to put yourself in my hands and ac- 
company me to-morrow night, you shall see the whole 
scheme for yourself. 1 ' 

Lord Barmouth was of opinion that it was not wise in the 
circumstances to take any such step. He cross-examined 
Jack at considerable length, his questions being pointed 
with marked intelligence. At the same time he said little 
or nothing about himself. Lady Barmouth sat there 
smiling behind the cover of the darkness, infinitely glad 
to see her husband taking an interest in the affairs of life 
once more. 

“ Don’t you think it is rather late to-night ? ” she sug- 
gested ; “besides, we are going too fast. With your 
intimate knowledge of the situation, and with the help of 
these gentlemen, surely we can devise some scheme for 
getting the better of that fiend Anstruther.” 

“Ay, you are right,” Barmouth said, his deep voice 
ringing through the room. “I see a way now, a way as 
clear as daylight.” 

In his passionate emotion he dashed his foot forward so 
that the point of his shoe came with force against one of 
the logs in the grate. A blue flame spurted up, and died 
as suddenly as it had come. Jack and Rigby rose to leave. 
No sooner were they outside than Jack clutched his com- 
panion’s arm eagerly. 

“Did you see nothing?” Jack whispered. “By 
heaven, Lord Barmouth and the Nostalgo we saw in the 
forecourt to-night are one and the same person ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


WHICH MAN WAS IT? 

Rigby’s astonishment was frank and undisguised. It 
was quite evident that he had noticed nothing suspicious 
about the look or attitude of Lord Barmouth ; indeed, he 
had been on the far side of the table when the master of 
the house had entered the room. But he was not alto- 
gether prepared to accept Jack’s statement unless he could 
verify it by something more than a mere expression of 
opinion. 

“ Are you quite sure of that ? ” he asked. “ Mind you, 
this is an exceedingly important matter, and if what you 
say is true, we have opened up a quite fresh development 
of the mystery.” 

“I am absolutely certain of it,” Jack declared. “ I 
had not the least idea of anything of the kind till we were 
both on our feet ready to go. It was at this point, you 
will remember, that Lord Barmouth displayed some feeling 
and accidentally touched the logs of wood on the fire with 
his foot. In the spurt of flame which followed, I had a 
perfect view of his face.” 

“ Would you mind describing what you saw ? ” Rigby 
asked. 

“You have only to look at the nearest poster displaying 
the features of Nostalgo, and your question is answered. 
It was only a flash, but the face was impressed upon my 
mind in the most vivid fashion. There was the same 
sinister expression of face, the same repulsive twist of the 
mouth, the same inexpressible gleam of the eyes. You 
know what I mean : the whole thing was exactly as we 
see it, on half the hoardings in London. Of course it is 
the face of a leering Mephistopheles. And yet I don’t 
know ; it occurred to me that there was something very 
pathetic and at the same time kindly about Barmouth’s 
124 


Which Man Was It ? 


125 

aspect. You know what I mean : imagine a kind-hearted, 
good-natured actor made up as repulsively as possible, 
and yet with the suggestion of his natural disposition 
behind him.” 

“Yes, I fancy I understand what you mean,” Rigby 
replied thoughtfully. “ But you don’t suggest that the 
man really was made up, do you ? ’ ’ 

Jack replied that he did and he didn’t. There was 
something unreal about Barmouth, and yet it was im- 
possible to believe that that sinister face was anything 
except just as nature made it. The friends walked along 
side by side in silence before another idea occurred to 
Rigby. 

“ It seems to me,” he said, “ that we must believe in the 
existence of two Nostalgos. The one you found near 
Panton Square was dead ; in fact, the police sergeant testi- 
fied to the fact. How or by what means that man’s body 
was so mysteriously spirited away we are not very likely 
to find out. At any rate it is quite fair to assume that 
his friends had some desperate reason for spiriting the 
body away. Therefore, we may logically infer that Lord 
Barmouth cannot possibly be the same man you saw in 
Pan ton Square.” 

“That is a very fair assumption,” Jack admitted. 
“But to carry your argument a bit further, we are bound 
to assume that there are no less than three Nostalgos. 
The suggestion is almost farcical, but there it is.” 

“ What do you mean by three ? ” Rigby asked. 

“ Well, don’t forget the man we saw in the forecourt 
of the house in Montrose Place. No mistake about his 
being a Nostalgo.” 

“ Quite so,” Rigby admitted. “Iam with you there. 
But how do we know for certain that Nostalgo No. 2, so to 
speak, and Lord Barmouth are not the same man ? Did 
you notice anything strange about the appearance of Bar- 
mouth as he came into the room to-night — that he was 
humpbacked or misshapen in any way? ” 

Jack was bound to admit that he had not noticed any- 
thing of the kind. 


126 


The Yellow Face 


“ I don’t think we shall ever do much good unless we go 
direct to the fountain head,” Jack said thoughtfully. 

“Mexico,” Rigby cried. “I see exactly what you 
mean.” 

“ Mexico it is. We know perfectly well that when Bar- 
mouth went off to Mexico two years ago on a sporting ex- 
pedition he was a normal man like you and me. If he had 
been so terribly disfigured by birth or accident as he ap- 
peared to-night we should have known it. A man in his 
position with an infirmity like that cannot hide it from the 
light of day. To carry the thing to a logical conclusion, 
if Barmouth had been like that when he went away, why 
should he be so dreadfully troubled about it now? ” 

Rigby applauded this sound reasoning. He could see 
that Jack had something on his mind, and urged him to 
proceed. 

“I don’t quite know what to make of it,” Jack said. 
“ As I observed just now, we seem to be face to face with 
the fact that there are two or three Nostalgos, and for all 
we know to the contrary, there may be a score more knock- 
ing about London. It has occurred to me more than once 
that these men must belong to some secret society.” 

Rigby was inclined to laugh at the idea. On being 
asked by Jack to explain what he saw that was fatal to the 
theory, he replied logically enough that such a thing was 
out of the question. 

“My dear fellow, just think what you are saying,” he 
exclaimed. “ So far as my reading teaches me, the great 
object of a secret society is to be secret. Besides, you 
don’t suggest for a moment that these men belong to any 
particular tribe, especially as we know perfectly well that 
Lord Barmouth, who is an Englishman, belongs to them. 
Nor would you want me to believe that these men are in 
the habit of having their faces operated upon by some in- 
genious doctor, so that they are in the position to recog- 
nize one another when they meet.” 

Jack was bound to admit that Rigby had the facts en- 
tirely upon his side. It seemed absolutely childish to be- 
lieve that sane men would do this kind of thing, especially 


Which Man Was It? 


127 


when it was very evident that these various Nostalgos were 
only two anxious to hide themselves from the light of day. 
Rigby did not pursue his advantage ; he was quite content 
to judge that his argument had prevailed from the expres- 
sion of Jack’s face. 

“But we need not carry that argument any further,” he 
said. “I judge from your expression that you have 
another theory.” 

“I was just coming to that,” Jack said. “We will 
assume for the sake of argument that when Barmouth went 
to Mexico he was without blemish of mind or body. That 
being so, he must have met with some terrible adventure 
which has resulted in this terrible disfigurement. Mind 
you, it is a disfigurement ; it certainly is not natural ; for 
instance, no three men could possibly have faces like that 
as the result of a freak of Nature. What I am trying to 
think is this : Barmouth got mixed up in some hideous 
secret society, and that he either carries on his face the 
badge of the tribe, or he has been purposely disfigured out 
of revenge for some dereliction of duty. However, this is 
only speculation after all, and we can do nothing till we 
have some fresh facts before us.” 

“ I am inclined to think very highly of your theory all 
the same,” Rigby said. “There is no questioning the 
fact that we have to look towards Mexico for an elucidation 
of the mystery. By Jove, I have nearly forgotten some- 
thing. Wouldn’t it be a good thing to find out if An- 
struther had ever been to Mexico? ” 

“Of course it would,” Jack exclaimed. “I’ll see to 
that. I will go to Anstruther’s to-morrow night and learn 
there. It will be hard indeed if I am unable to answer 
your question next time we meet.” 

It was fairly late the following afternoon before Jack 
found himself in Pan ton Square again. He had practically 
promised Lady Barmouth to tell Claire everything, but a 
natural reflection had shown him that this was not quite 
prudent. Not that he objected to take Claire into his con- 
fidence, but what he greatly feared was the girl’s inability 
to control her feelings in the presence of Anstruther after 


128 


The Yellow Face 


she had learned everything. But, as Jack looked into the 
face of his betrothed, his doubts gradually vanished. It 
was a courageous as well as a beautiful face, and it occurred 
to Jack that Lady Barmouth had not done badly when she 
had selected Claire to be her confidante in this painful 
matter. Claire’s dark eyes were turned interrogatively 
upon her lover. Perhaps he was looking a little more 
serious than usual ; at any rate his grave face told her that 
he came with news of importance. 

“My dear boy, what is the matter?” Claire asked. 
She twined her hands about his arm, and laid her head 
caressingly on his shoulder. It was impossible to resist 
that pleading upward glance. “Iam sure you have some- 
thing important to say to me.” 

“Against my better judgment,” Jack laughed. “Yes, 
I am going to tell you something about your guardian.” 

Claire listened with the deepest attention as Jack pro- 
ceeded to speak freely of the adventures of the last two 
days. He watched the change of her face, the flush and 
the pallor, and the dawning resolution which gave her 
mouth strength and firmness. 

“I do not think you need be afraid for me,” Claire 
said. “I will be brave and resolute; I will do my best 
to hide my feelings from Mr. Anstruther. This is a dread- 
ful business altogether ; but, dreadful as it is, we cannot 
draw back now. You have told me some strange things, 
but some of your facts are not facts at all.” 

“ In what way have I been mistaken ? ” Jack asked. 

“Well, as to Mr. Anstruther, for instance. You say 
that you saw him at Montrose Place last night for the best 
part of an hour.” 

“Well, so I did,” Jack declared. “If you want any- 
body to prove that, ask Rigby. Anstruther was there 
somewhere about half-past ten, and when he left he had 
not the slightest intention of going home.” 

“Most extraordinary,” Claire murmured. “Listen to 
what I have to say, what I should have to swear to if this 
thing ever went into a court of justice. Shortly after din- 
ner last night Spencer Anstruther went directly to his study ; 


Which Man Was It ? 


129 


he had not been there very long before he was playing his 
violin, and this he continued to do till one o’clock this 
morning. Now what do you make of that ? ” 

“It seems almost incredible,” Jack said. “Was there 
a break at all in the performance? ” 

Claire replied that there was a break of perhaps twenty- 
five minutes to half-an-hour, so far as she could judge, 
somewhere about eleven o’clock. Jack smiled with the air 
of a man who makes a discovery. This was just the period 
when Padini had turned up in Montrose Place. There 
was no time to go into theories now, but Jack felt that he 
would have a surprise for his friends later on. 

“Tell me, tell me,” he said, “do you think you can 
recollect the names of all the pieces that Anstruther played 
last night ? I want you to try and repeat them to me ex- 
actly in the order that they occurred. This is more im- 
portant than you would imagine.” 

It was a somewhat difficult task, but Claire managed it 
successfully at length. For a long time the girl bent 
thoughtfully over her writing table, and presently produced 
a neat list on which were inscribed the names of some ten 
or fifteen classical compositions. 

“ I think you will find that practically correct,” she said. 
“I may not have recollected the exact order, but I think 
that is good enough for your purpose.” 

Masefield was quite sure of the fact. He folded the list, 
and carefully placed it in his pocket. 

“Now there is one more thing I should like,” he said. 
“Now, as you are perfectly well aware, Padini was giving 
a recital last night at the small Queen’s Hall. You will 
remember this, more especially as your music agent sent 
you a programme, a thing he always does when there is 
anything of importance going on. Now, do you think you 
could find that programme for me ? Not that it very much 
matters, because I can step ’round to Smithson’s and get one 

for myself ; still, if you happen to have it in the house ” 

But Claire was quite certain that she had the programme 
somewhere. She produced it presently from a mass of 
papers on the piano. 


130 


The Yellow Face 


“Now we shall get at it/* Jack said. “I see by this 
programme that Padini is down for no less than six items. 
He had a most enthusiastic audience, as I happen to know, 
which really means that he played about twelve pieces al- 
together. Now I will read to you the first four of these 
compositions. They are respectively Etude 25, Chopin ; 
Wiegenlied, Brahms; Moszkowski’s Five Waltzes; 
Liszt’s ‘ Die Lorelei.’ Now, unless I am greatly mistaken, 
you will find that those pieces were played in the same 
order by Anstruther in his study last night. Is not that 
so?” 

“Amazing!” Claire cried. “ Absolutely it is exactly 
as you say. What does it mean ? ” 

“ We will take the list right through till the end if you 
like,” Jack replied. “The same thing will apply to both 
lists. Now is it not an extraordinary thing that those 
two men should have gone through exactly the same pro- 
gramme, item by item, without the slightest variation ? 
And all the time they were some two miles apart?” 

“It seems absolutely incapable of explanation,” Claire 
cried. 

“ Oh ! the explanation will be simple enough when 
the time comes,” Jack laughed; “but you will see for 
yourself that the thing is not quite finished. It is obvious 
enough that Padini’s recital finished at about eleven, 
whereas you say that Anstruther went on till about one 
o’clock in the morning. The next business is to find out 
where Padini was playing so late — possibly at a smoking 
concert or something of that kind. At any rate I am 
going to find out, and then I shall discover that the sup- 
plementary programme will be exactly the same as your 
list.” 

“Is it some new science?” Claire asked, “some 
wonderful new discovery that Mr. Anstruther is perfecting 
before he submits it to the world ? ” 

“Not a bit of it,” Jack said practically. “There is 
nothing occult here. And now I must go. I will see 
you at dinner.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE EMPTY ROOM 

Jack went off, bent upon putting his discovery to the 
test. There was not the slightest trouble in ascertaining 
where Padini had passed the hours between eleven and 
one of the previous evening. As Masefield had antici- 
pated, the artist had been persuaded to lend his services 
to the Bohemia Clef Club, where he had been the lion of 
the evening. The fact Jack ascertained at the club itself, 
a musical member affording him all the information he 
desired. The previous night’s talent had been of a very 
middle class nature, so that Padini had found himself in 
great request. He had been exceedingly obliging, so 
Jack’s informant said, and had practically played straight 
away for a couple of hours. Jack jotted down the names 
of the various items executed by Padini, and on com- 
paring them with the list given him by Claire, found that 
they tallied exactly. 

“ The plot thickens,” he murmured, as he walked 
rapidly away in the direction of the Planet office, there to 
lay his most recent discoveries before Rigby. “ What an 
ingenious rascal we have to deal with, to be sure ! ” 

Rigby was emphatically of the same opinion. He did 
not see how it was possible to better Jack’s suggestion 
that he should dine at Anstruther’s that night and ascertain 
all he could as to Anstruther’s past, and especially as to 
whether the latter had ever been in Mexico. 

“ There is one little thing we have quite overlooked,” 
Jack suggested as he rose to depart. “ We have got to 
get inside that study. Anstruther’s game is to lock him- 
self in and pretend that his violin soothes his mind and 
induces a proper train of thought. That’s his story, of 
course. I have ascertained that Padini is doing nothing 
to-night, but that will not prevent the music going on 

* 3 * 


132 The Yellow Face 

all the same. Now if you could hit upon some scheme 
whereby ” 

“ I know exactly what you mean,” Rigby said ; “ you 
want to see the inside of the study just at the critical 
moment. I think our game is to make a diversion outside. 
I’ll just turn over the matter in my mind, and if I can see 
a really artistic way of doing it, I will send you a telegram 
just before you go to dinner. The diversion, of course, will 
come from the outside of the house.” 

Jack felt sure that the matter was quite safe in the ca- 
pable hands of Dick Rigby. He was surer still when a little 
before eight o’clock his landlady handed him a telegram 
containing just three words from Rigby. Before he 
slept that night, Jack felt pretty sure that the mystery of 
Anstruther’s violin practice would be a secret from him no 
longer. 

It was hard work to keep his feelings under control, to 
sit in the drawing-room before dinner was announced and 
exchange commonplaces with his brilliant host. Anstruther 
had rarely been in better form ; he had the air and 
mien of a man with whom the world goes very well indeed ; 
success seemed to stand out in big letters upon him. 
Usually Anstruther was a man of moods; to-night he was 
merely a society creature with apparently no heed of the 
morrow. 

If Jack had any misgivings on the subject of Claire's 
behavior towards her guardian, his uneasiness was 
speedily set at rest. The most critical observer could not 
have detected the slightest jarring note. It was all the 
same through dinner : Anstruther monopolized most of 
the conversation, and Claire followed every word with 
flattering attention. Dessert was on the table at length 
before Jack carefully led up the conversation to foreign 
travel. He had seen much of the world himself, so that 
there were several places of mutual interest to be discussed 
with Anstruther. 

“There is one part of the world, however,” Jack said, 
as he carelessly peeled a peach, “ that I have always been 
curious to see. I allude to the land of the Aztecs, those 


The Empty Room 133 

wonderful ruined cities of Mexico, of which we know so 
little and profess to know so much. Now, don’t you think 
that those people must have been of an exceedingly high 
state of civilization ? ” 

The question was so innocently asked, and Jack's artistic 
deference was so subtly conveyed, that Anstruther fell 
headlong into the trap. 

“ I should say there is not the slightest doubt about it,” 
the host responded. “ I have been there ; indeed, I spent 
a goodish part of my time in and about Montezuma.” 

“And about when would that be? ” Jack asked. 

Anstruther explained, without giving definite dates, 
that it was about two years before. Jack proceeded to 
discuss the matter in a casual kind of way. He was 
anxious to know whether any of the old customs of the 
Aztecs still prevailed ; he had heard that to a great extent 
the religion of these people had been built up on free- 
masonry. Did, for instance, Anstruther believe in the 
legends of terrible revenges which these people used to 
inflict upon their enemies ? 

But Anstruther declined to put his head further into 
the lion’s mouth ; he seemed to become suddenly a little un- 
easy and suspicious and changed the conversation to safer 
grounds. Still, Jack had learned quite as much as he had 
expected to learn, and Anstruther’s very reticence con- 
firmed Jack in the feeling that his host knew everything 
there was to know about the terrible misfortunes of the man 
or men called Nostalgo. 

It was getting fairly late now, and Jack was beginning 
to wonder whether the hour had not yet arrived for 
Rigby’s promised diversion. If it came now it would be 
merely wasted, seeing that nothing could be gained by 
Rigby’s ingenious device until Anstruther was safe in 
his study. He showed no signs, however, of any dis- 
position to move; his face had grown placid again, and 
he was talking with all his old charm of manner on various 
topics of interest. 

Jack did not fail to notice the figure of Serena as she 
flitted noiselessly about the room. It had not escaped 


*34 


The Yellow Face 


his notice, either, that the woman had appeared more 
than usually anxious and eager when Mexico had been 
mentioned. Serena disappeared from the room a moment 
in her soft, flitting manner, coming back a moment later 
with a telegram, which she laid silently by her master’s 
side. Anstruther opened the envelope carelessly, and 
glanced at the contents. 

Just for an instant his face grew dark as a thunder-cloud, 
and something like an oath escaped his lips. It was all 
like a lightning flash, but the swift change had not been 
lost on Jack. Anstruther twisted up the telegram care- 
fully, and thrust it in one of the shaded candles before 
him, as if he needed a light for his cigar. Jack felt that he 
would have given much for a sight of that telegram, but 
already it was a little pile of gray ashes upon Anstruther’ s 
dessert plate. 

“A great nuisance,” the latter said airily ; “ that is the 
worst of being a man of science. But I am not going out 
to-night for anybody. I have got some new music I want 
to try over presently.” 

Jack murmured something appropriate to the occasion. 
Claire had already left the table, with the suggestion that 
perhaps the men would like coffee in the drawing-room. 

“You stay here and smoke,” said Anstruther ; “you 
won’t mind my leaving you, of course, especially as I am 
so anxious to get back to my music.” 

So saying, Anstruther pitched his cigar end on the ash 
tray, and moved off in the direction of his study. He had 
a gay, debonair manner now ; he hummed a fragment of 
an operatic air as he walked along. There was the jangle 
of a telephone bell presently ; almost immediately after- 
wards the study door was heard to shut and lock, and the 
music began. 

“ It seems almost impossible to believe that that can be 
Anstruther,” Jack said to himself. “No man could im- 
prove like that in so short a time. I wonder what Rigby 
is doing. I hope he won’t spoil the pretty scheme by 
over-haste. Probably in the course of half an-hour he will 
deem it time to begin.” 


The Empty Room 135 

Evidently Rigby had been of the same opinion, for a 
full half-hour elapsed before a sound came from outside 
the house. Anstruther was well into his second theme be- 
fore there was a sudden knocking and hammering on the 
front door, and a stentorian voice burst into cries of 
“Fire! Fire!” 

So spontaneous and natural was the whole thing, that 
Jack was taken absolutely aback for a moment. It oc- 
curred to him, of course, that a fire had broken out inside 
the house, and that some passer-by had discovered it. 
Again came the hammering on the door and the strident 
shouts of those outside. Jack made a leap for the hall, 
and raced up-stairs to the drawing-room three steps at a 
time. Claire had thrown her book aside, and stood, pale 
and startled, demanding to know what was the matter. 

“Somebody outside is calling ‘fire,’” Jack explained 
hurriedly; “ not that I fancy there is much the matter — 
the kitchen chimney or something of that kind. There 
they go again ! ” 

Once more the hammering and yelling were upraised ; 
a frightened servant crept across the hall to the front door 
and opened it. And yet, despite all this turmoil, the 
beautiful soft strains of music below were continuing. 
Not for a second did they cease ; the player was evidently 
too wrapped in his music to be conscious'of outside dis- 
turbances. Not that the clamor lacked force and volume, 
for now that the front door was open the din was absolutely 
deafening. Through the break in the disturbance the 
sweet, liquid strains of music went on. Fond of his in- 
strument as Anstruther might have been, he could be wide 
awake and alert enough on ordinary occasions, as Jack 
knew only too well. Why, then, was he so callous on this 
occasion ? 

“ Had not you better go down and arouse my guardian ? ” 
Clare suggested ; “ surely he is the proper man to look to 
a thing like this.” 

Jack tumbled eagerly down the stairs, and thundered 
with both fists on the study door. As he had more than 
half expected, no response came to his summons. The 


The Yellow Face 


136 

music had become still more melodious and dreamy ; the 
player might have been far away. As Jack turned, he 
saw that some half-dozen men were standing in the hall, 
one of whom gave him a palpable wink. It was Rigby’s 
wink, and Jack detected it instantly. 

“ There don’t seem to be so very much the matter, sir,” 
Rigby said. “ No more than the kitchen fire. Only we 
thought we’d drop in and let you know. You chaps go 
to the kitchen and see what you can do.” 

“ How on earth did you manage that ? ” Jack asked. 

“Only a matter of burning a little magnesium light by 
the back door,” Rigby explained, with a grin; “but it 
seems to me only part of our duty to acquaint the master 
of the house with the fact that something is wrong. Is 
that him playing now, Jack? ” 

“Nobody else,” Jack replied. “Isn’t it wonderful? 
Anybody would think he was a great artist absolutely lost 
to all sense of his surroundings. Still, as you say, it is our 
duty to let him know what is going on, even if we have to 
break in the door.” 

Rigby grinned responsively. Secure in his disguise, he 
was not afraid of being taken for anything else but a street 
loafer eager to earn a more or less honest shilling. He 
tried the door and found it locked ; he ran back a pace or 
two and hurled himself with full force against the oak 
door. Crack went the door on its hinges, the woodwork 
gave inwardly, and the room was disclosed to view. 

The music had not stopped or faltered for an instant, 
the whole apartment was flooded with a delicate melody. 
Jack stood there puzzled and bewildered, and with a feel- 
ing that he would wake presently and find that it was all a 
dream. 

“ Absolutely stupendous ! ” he cried; “music fit food 
for the gods, and not a sign of the player ! ” 

For the room was absolutely empty ! 


CHAPTER XIX 


A BROKEN MELODY 

There they stood in the empty room, neither speaking, 
and gazing about them as if they expected some solution 
of the strange mystery to fall upon them. The wildest 
part of the whole thing was that though the music con- 
tinued in the same sweet, harmonious way, there was not 
the slightest suggestion or indication of where it came 
from. It could not possibly have been a phonograph or a 
gramophone or anything of that kind, as the instrument in 
that case would have been in sight. And yet the whole 
room was flooded with that beautiful melody as if an invisi- 
ble choir had been there making the music of the gods. 

“ I declare it makes me feel quite queer,” Rigby said; 
“but of course there must be some practical explanation 
of it. Can you suggest any common sense solution ? ” 

“No, but I am quite sure that Anstruther could,” Jack 
replied. “This has nothing to do with the other world. 
What’s that?” 

Though Jack spoke coolly enough, he was feeling just a 
little nervous himself. From the hall beyond came a quick, 
buzzing noise, like a muffled circular saw, which resolved 
itself presently into the wild whirling of the handle of the 
telephone, as if some one were trying to get a call in a 
desperate hurry. Rigby jumped at once to the explana- 
tion, and Jack proceeded immediately to make a close ex- 
amination of the room. 

He was still in the act of doing so, when a startled cry 
from Rigby brought him up all standing. An instant later 
and Anstruther was there, demanding to know the meaning 
of this unwarrantable intrusion. Rigby congratulated him- 
self upon his diguise ; he had no fancy at that moment to 
be recognized by Anstruther. 

*37 


The Yellow Face 


138 

“ Who is that loafer yonder?” Anstruther demanded 
passionately. “What is the blackguard doing in my 
study ? And, if it comes to that, what are you doing here 
too?” 

Jack proceeded to explain exactly what had happened. 
In spite of the confusion of the moment, he had not failed 
to notice the fact that the music had ceased directly An- 
struther had entered the room. It was quite evident that 
Anstruther had not the slightest idea of Rigby’s identity. 
He was clearly taken in by the story of the fire, and 
pitched Rigby a half-crown, which the latter acknowledged 
hoarsely, after the manner of the class he was made up to 
represent. 

“Well, I suppose it is all right now,” Anstruther mut- 
tered. Usually cool and collected enough, he looked 
white and very much agitated. Something had evidently 
gone terribly wrong with that man of blood and iron. 
“ Get these fellows out of the house, please, Masefield. I 
have had a great deal to worry me to-night, and I want to 
be quiet.” 

There being nothing further to wait for, and Rigby, 
having practically gained his point, departed with an in- 
timation to Jack that he would wait outside for him. 
Masefield could see that Anstruther was regarding him 
with an eye of deep suspicion. But it was no cue of Jack’s 
to notice this ; he w r anted to make matters as smooth as 
possible. 

“I suppose you were not very faraway? ” he said. “ I 
heard your violin a few minutes before the fire broke out. 
I wonder you did not see it for yourself.” 

Anstruther’s face cleared slightly, though Jack noticed 
that his hand trembled, afid that his pallid lips were 
twitching. With a commonplace expression or two, Jack 
turned and left the house as if nothing out of the usual run 
had happened. He found Rigby patiently waiting for him 
at the corner. 

“ Well, what do you think of that ? ” Rigby asked. “ I 
am exceedingly glad to find that Anstruther did not recog- 
nize me. A most unlucky thing that he should have come 


139 


A Broken Melody 

back like that. Given a half-an-hour alone in that room, 
it would have been an odd thing if we had not solved the 
mystery of the invisible musician. But it is hardly safe 
to stop and discuss the question here. Walk on to the 
Planet office, and wait for me there.” 

“ Is there any more to be done to-night ? ” Jack asked, 
when he and his friend were alone once more, seated in 
the latter’s office. “ Shall we stop here, or do you want 
to proceed further before you go to bed ? ” 

“Well, you can do as you please,” Rigby said. “I 
don’t know that I particularly desire your services at 
present. My notion is to go back to Panton Square, and 
hang about on the off-chance of seeing something.” 

“ And spend half the night in dodging the police,” Jack 
laughed. “ That’s a very primitive idea of yours ; I flatter 
myself I have a much better idea than that. Anstruther 
will never betray himself ; we haven’t the slightest chance 
of trapping him. Now, unless I am altogether out of it, 
Padini is the man we want to get hold of. He is exceed- 
ingly vain ; like most artists, there is nothing secretive 
about him, and I am told that he is particularly fond of a 
glass of champagne. Depend upon it, that fellow will talk 
fast enough when the time comes. If he doesn’t, we can 
make him.” 

“ But we must have something to go upon,” Rigby ob- 
served thoughtfully. “ I think we are justified in assum- 
ing that the fellow is a wrong ’un ; anyway, our hands will 
be greatly strengthened if we can find something to his 
discredit.” 

“ That’s exactly what I mean to do,” Jack said. “ Now 
Bates is quite as much interested in this matter as we are, 
and though you have backed yourself against the police in 
this case, there is no reason why you shouldn’t make use 
of them. Besides, we are not bound to tell Bates too 
much. If there is anything to be found out to the discredit 
of Padini, Bates is the very man for our purpose.” 

But, as it transpired subsequently, Bates was not avail- 
able. He had just gone off, so the sergeant said, having 
been called in to investigate a burglary quite recently dis- 


140 


The Yellow Face 


covered in Belgrave Gardens. It was something exceed- 
ingly neat in the way of a burglary, the sergeant explained, 
with the air of a connoisseur in such matters ; in fact, the 
place had been routed during the progress of a big 
reception. No ladders had been used, no wedges or com- 
monplace implements of that kind ; indeed, it was more 
than suspected that the burglary was the work of two of 
the guests. 

An unfortunate footman, being where he ought not to 
have been, had had his suspicions aroused by the move- 
ments of two distinguished-looking men in evening dress. 
He had come quite unexpectedly upon them in one of the 
corridors, and had so far forgotten himself as to want to 
know what they were doing there. Immediately one of 
them had felled him with some blunt, heavy instrument, 
and he had only just time to yell a note of warning before 
he fainted. The cry was taken up at once, and immedi- 
ately the corridor was filled with men guests. In the con- 
fusion, and owing to the fact that the thieves themselves 
were in evening dress, it was impossible to lay hands on 
the culprits. All this the sergeant told his visitors with an 
air of great enjoyment. 

“ If you give us the number we will walk round there,” 
Rigby said. “ Thank you very much.” 

The big house in Belgrave Gardens had lost most of 
its air of simmering excitement by the time the two friends 
reached there. They were informed that Bates had nearly 
finished his investigations, and, indeed, the inspector came 
into the hall at that moment, accompanied by Lord Long- 
worth. He held in his hand a beautifully embroidered 
silk muffler — one of those choice affairs which are large 
enough to cover a dinner table, and yet small enough to 
go into a waistcoat pocket. 

“Very strange indeed, your lordship,” Bates was say- 
ing ; “ I can’t understand it at all. Here is your injured 
footman prepared to swear that one of his assailants was 
wearing that muffler when he came into the house, that is, 
on his arrival. And here we have Mrs. Montague ready 
to swear that the muffler belongs to her. Whether she 


A Broken Melody 141 

likes it or not, I really must insist upon my right to take 
this wrap away with me. If it proves to belong to Mrs. 

Montague, why, of course " 

And the detective shrugged his shoulders. A moment 
later, and he was in the street with Masefield and Rigby. 
He listened carefully enough to the dramatic version of the 
story they had to tell him, and professed himself ready to 
do anything required of him. 

“ Of course, I know nothing whatever about this violin 
mystery," he said. “ I have quite enough to do to look 
after the native element in the way of rascality. But there 
are ways and me^ns of getting the better of the gentle 
foreigner. ’ ’ 

‘‘But I always understood that Scotland Yard employed 
detectives of all nationalities?" Rigby observed. 
“ Haven’t you got anybody on your staff with a knowl- 
edge of international crime ? " 

Bates responded that such was the case. If the friends 
liked, he would go with them at once to the residence of 
Superintendent Zimburg, and there see what could be 
done. “As far as I am personally concerned, my own 
hands are very full to-night." 

“ Your sergeant told us that this was a very interesting 
case," Jack suggested. “Is it possible that this burglary 
was the work of some guests invited to the house ? " 

“ Honestly, I believe it to be the case," Bates pro- 
ceeded to explain. “After all said and done, modern 
society is a pretty queer mixture. Given a good presence 
and a good address, plus the appearance of the posses- 
sion of money, it is quite possible for a man to get any- 
where. Take a big reception like the one that Lord Long- 
worth gave to-night. Now, it would be quite fair to as- 
sume that his lordship and his wife were not personally 
acquainted with at least a third of the guests present. 
Somebody takes a friend, and that friend takes somebody 
else, and there you are. Of course, you are aware of the fact 
that at all big weddings nowadays it is absolutely necessary 
to employ detectives. To-night’s business was exceed- 
ingly neat and novel, and might have been wonderfully 


142 


The Yellow Face 


successful but for the footman. All the same I am quite 
certain that the thing was executed by somebody who is 
actually a guest of his lordship.” 

“And not so much as a clue left behind,” Jack 
laughed. 

“Well, there is, and there isn’t,” Bates admitted. “I 
had a good look round when everybody was gone, and 
the only thing I could lay my hands on was this wonderful 
silk muffler. Nobody owned it; the injured footman 
declares that he saw a gentleman arriving earlier in the 
evening who had this muffler about his neck. Here was 
a fine clue, I thought to myself. And then Mrs. Montague 
comes back in her brougham and claims this thing as her 
own. Distinctly annoying, don’t you think?” 

“Annoying enough,” Rigby agreed; “but is the 
muffler in question so very much out of the common ? ” 

Bates was emphatically of the opinion that such was the 
case. He produced the thing from his pocket, and the 
three men proceeded to examine it in the light of a street 
lamp. Jack appeared as if about to say something, then 
suddenly changed his mind, and began to whistle instead. 
They came at length once more to Shannon Street police 
station, where Bates telephoned to Superintendent Zim- 
burg, asking the latter if he would come round imme- 
diately. He arrived a few moments later — a slim, dark 
little man, with a vivacious manner and a beard with an 
interrogative cock to it. He smiled in a greasy sort of 
way at the suggestion that there might be some prom- 
inent foreign scoundrel in London with whom he was not 
acquainted. 

“ I know the whole gang,” he said. “That is exactly 
my business. Have I seen anything, or do I know any- 
thing of this Padini ? Probably I do, but not under that 
name. Oh, yes, it is quite a usual thing for some of the 
pink of cosmopolitan rascals to be talented. For instance, 
I know at least three who might have made great names as 
artists, only they prefer the seamy side of life. There is 
another who might have been a poet. Therefore, I see no 
reason why this Padini, or whatever his proper name may 


A Broken Melody 143 

be, should not be a really great violinist. If you have such 
a thing as a portrait 5 ’ 

But Bates had nothing of the kind, and the whole thing 
looked like coming to a deadlock, when Rigby suddenly 
recollected that a portrait of Padini was to be obtained at 
the office of the Planet. The violinist’s portrait had been 
produced in the Pla7iet two days before, and the original 
was still lying about the office. 

“ I’ll take a cab and be back in ten minutes,” Rigby 
said. 

He was back in the prescribed time, and produced a 
cabinet portrait of Padini, which he handed over to the 
superintendent. 

“ Now, what do you make of that ? ” he asked. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE MOUSE IN THE TRAP 

Zimburg pulled the lamp across the table, and through 
his glasses carefully scrutinized the features of the violinist. 
“ Very strange,” he muttered; ‘‘it is not often that I am 
puzzled. Offhand I should have said that I have never 
seen this face before, but the more I look at it, the more 
certain I am that the features are quite familiar to me. 
At the same time there is some subtle change which baffles 
me. It may be the eyes, or the nose and the mouth — that 
it is impossible to say. Anyway, I should be prepared to 
arrest this man on suspicion, and take the risk of finding 
out all about him afterwards.” 

“ I suppose any slight alteration makes a difference in 
the photograph ? ” Jack asked. “ After all said and done, 
photography is a very weak reed to lie upon. Can’t you 
tell us exactly what is puzzling you ? ’ ’ 

Zimburg threw up his hands with a suggestion of 
despair. A sudden light flashed across Jack’s mind. He 
recollected that Padini, so far as the stage was con- 
cerned, appeared with a clean face, but in private life it 
had been his whim to adopt a moustache strictly on the 
lines of that worn by the German Emperor. It was ap- 
parently an insane thing to do, and savored more of con- 
ceit than of anything else, but no doubt the thing had its 
advantages. 

“ Do you happen to have such a thing as a paint-box 
and a brush on the premises ?” Jack asked. “ If so, I 
think I shall be in a position to jog Mr. Zimburg’ s 
memory.” , 

As it happened, the necessary implements were there to 
hand. There were occasions, Bates explained, when such 
things were necessary. Now and then some sprig of the 
nobility who had dined not wisely but too well found him- 
144 


The Mouse in the Trap 145 

self in the cells in a more or less dilapidated condition, and 
here it was that the paint-box came in. Black eyes and 
discolored faces and that kind of thing, Bates explained. 
“ I assure you that a dash or two of paint makes all the 
difference in the world.” 

Jack smiled as he bent over the photograph, and with 
a few subtle touches decorated the face with a fierce blond 
moustache. He handed the card over without comment 
to Zimburg. The little man’s face fairly beamed with 
delight. 

“Ah! but you are a clever gentleman,” he cried. 
“ Now I know our friend. Yes, yes, but he is a very 
clever man. And older than he looks, mind you ; that 
fellow has eluded the Continental police for years. It 
would be absurd to try and give his real name, for probably 
he has forgotten it himself. Yes, I have heard of his play- 
ing before ; not that I regarded him as quite good enough 
for a public platform. Wherever that man goes, roguery 
follows as a matter of course. Depend upon it, his ap- 
pearance here means mischief. I will have him carefully 
watched, and before long I shall have the pleasure of lay- 
ing him by the heels.” 

“ Don’t do that, at least until you are absolutely obliged 
to,” Jack said eagerly. “ We are interested, deeply in- 
terested, in the movements of Signor Padini. It is more 
or less of a private matter, but if you could provide us with 
some means of getting a hold on that fellow we should be 
exceedingly obliged to you.” 

Zimburg promised to do his best, and departed. For 
some little time Rigby and Bates stood discussing the most 
recent developments of the case, whilst Jack sat in a 
thoughtful attitude, evidently puzzling something out. 

“Do you call Zimburg a really clever detective ? ” he 
asked at length. “ It seems to me that he has a poor 
memory for faces. For instance, he had not the slightest 
idea who the man Padini was till that moustache was added 
to the face of the photograph.” 

Bates, eager in defense of his colleagues, remarked that 
a little thing like that often made a vast difference. 


The Yellow Face 


146 

“ That is one of the great advantages of the Bertillon 
system,” he explained. “ I don’t care how clever a man 
may be — and when I speak of a clever man I mean a 
policeman in this instance — he is often utterly deceived by 
some slight physical change. Take the case of the late 
Charles Peace if you like. I understand that he could 
alter the expression and even the shape of his face entirely. 
Make your mind quite easy, for Zimburg will work it all 
out like some ingenious puzzle. I suppose you are aware 
of the fact that the London and Paris police have thou- 
sands of careful records made of the measurements of well- 
known criminals?” 

“ But Zimburg can’t very well measure Padini,” Rigby 
argued. “ He can’t make him drunk, or anything of that 
kind.” 

“No, but he can have him arrested on some faked-up 
charge,” Bates laughed. “That little game has been 
played more than once when we wanted the measurements 
of some clever criminal who had never passed through 
our hands.” 

“That is very ingenious,” Rigby said, “and I shan’t 
forget it. If facts like those were more widely known, I 
fancy you would get more assistance from the Press.” 

Bates emphatically repudiated the suggestion. 

“ I have often heard you say, in fact it is rather a fruit- 
ful source of complaint to the police, that the newspapers 
do them more harm than good,” Jack said reflectively ; 
“ but I think I can see a way whereby the Press could 
give you a good leg-up in the case of this Belgrave 
Gardens mystery. Dick, is it too late to get a paragraph 
inserted in to-morrow’s Planet /” 

41 Oh, dear, no,” Rigby explained. “ Probably no paper 
in London goes to bed later than we do. We make it 
a point of keeping open till the last possible minute, and 
we have a good hour before us yet. But what are you 
driving at ? ” 

“ Well, it is this way. It is pretty clear that one of the 
thieves was wearing that embroidered scarf which was also 
claimed by Mrs. Montague. Probably there were two 


The Mouse in the Trap 147 

such mufflers, but that does not affect my argument. 
Of course, a description of this affair will appear in to- 
morrow’s Planet , but I should like to embroider on it a 
bit. Suppose we add to the report a paragraph to the 
effect that the thief left a marvelous wrap behind him. 
We could say that it was absolutely unique, and all that 
sort of thing, just the sort of silly gossip that your readers 
are so fond of. We could hint that the scarf still remains 
at Belgrave Gardens for identification. Now it is a thou- 
sand to one this paragraph reaches the eye of the thief, 
or is brought to his notice. This being so, he will lose no 
opportunity of getting the wrap back again. All you 
have to do is to keep the house carefully under observa- 
tion, and your man falls into your hands like a ripe black- 
berry. What does the inspector think of our little 
scheme ? ’ ’ 

Bates pondered the matter a moment or two, and then 
cautiously remarked that at any rate there could be no 
harm in it. Whereupon the two friends went away to- 
gether, and half-an-hour later a spicy paragraph had been 
constructed for the delectation of the Planet's readers to- 
morrow. Rigby threw the paragraph aside, and whistled 
up-stairs to the composing room. 

“ You look as if you had something at the back of your 
mind,” he said, passing the cigarettes across to his com- 
panion. “ Jack, you have found something out ? ” 

“ Upon my word, I believe I have,” Jack replied. “ It 
is rather soothing to one’s vanity to get on the inside 
track so far as a detective is concerned. But it would not 
have been at all fair on my part to have said anything to 
Bates, seeing that you are investigating this Nostalgo busi- 
ness on your own account. Not that I am absolutely 
certain of my facts now, but I shall be after I have seen 
Miss Helmsley in the morning. Now, is there anything 
else we can do to-night ? I suppose even an indefatigable 
journalist like yourself goes to bed sometimes.” 

Anstruther was fortunately out when Jack called at 
Panton Square the next morning. He smiled to himself 
as he noticed a copy of the Planet on the hall table. It 


The Yellow Face 


148 

had evidently been carefully read, and on page 5, where 
the account of the Belgrave Gardens burglary appeared, 
somebody had ticked the paragraph with a pencil. Miss 
Helmsley was in the drawing-room, the housemaid said, 
and would see Mr. Masefield if he would go up-stairs. 
Claire was looking a little pale and distracted, Jack 
thought ; her eyes bore evidence of the fact that she had 
passed a restless night. But her face lighted up, and 
the old charm of feature reasserted itself as Jack entered. 

“ Come, come, this won’t do,” he said, half tenderly, 
half playfully. “Positively I shall have to kiss the color 
back to those pallid lips of yours. What is worrying you 
so much, dearest? ” 

“Nothing worries me so long as I am with you,” the 
girl said, as she stood with Jack’s arm about her. “ And 
yet I almost wish that you had never told me what you 
did yesterday.” 

“You cannot wish it more than I do, sweetheart,” Jack 
murmured ; “ but don’t you see that it was almost neces- 
sary ? There is some desperate rascality going on here, 
and your happiness could never have been an assured 
thing till we got to the bottom of it.” 

“But that is just what frightens me,” Clare protested. 
“ I cannot get out of my mind the recollection of what 
happened last night. I shall never listen to that music 
again without the feeling that some unknown danger is 
hovering about me. I am frightened, Jack, frightened to 
my very soul. And yet the whole thing can be explained; 
I am sure you can explain it yourself if you like ? ’ ’ 

Jack replied that he hoped to do so in a few days. He 
assured Claire that there was nothing supernatural about 
the thing. For both their sakes he exhorted Claire to be 
brave. The red mouth grew hard and firm ; there was a 
look of resolution in the girl’s blue eyes, 

“ It shall be even as you say,” she cried. “But tell 
me, has anything fresh happened since last night ? ” 

“Nothing that is worth speaking of,” Jack said, feeling 
a little ashamed of his evasion. “ Did Anstruther go out 
again last night ? By the way, he seldom wears an over- 


The Mouse in the Trap 149 

coat; at least, so I understood him to say. When he 
came in last evening, after the fire broke out, I noticed 
that he was not wearing an overcoat then. Where does 
he get those wonderful embroidered scarves from?” 

“ He has only one, so far as I know,” Claire explained. 
“ Originally there were three, but two were either lost or 
given away. Wonderful work, is it not ? ” 

“ Wonderful work, indeed,” Jack agreed ; “ but he did 
not tell me where they came from.” 

“ So far as I can understand they came from Mexico. 
The silk is really Chinese, of a quality which is made only 
for the imperial palace of Pekin. To steal this material 
is an offense punishable by death, but it is sometimes 
smuggled out of the town, and clever natives of Southern 
Mexico do the embroidery. But why are you so curious 
about this scarf? ” 

“Oh, I merely thought I should like to get one like 
it,” Jack said carelessly. He had no intention of frighten- 
ing Claire more than was absolutely necessary. “ Couldn’t 
you let me see it for a minute or two ? I suppose you 
know where it is kept? ” 

Claire knew perfectly well where to lay her hands upon 
the scarf. Anstruther was a methodical man, and hated 
to have his things lying about. He only used the scarf 
at such times as he was in evening dress. Claire went 
off, and Jack was by no means surprised that he had to 
wait a quarter of an hour. When Claire returned her 
hands were empty ; there was a puzzled frown between 
her usually smooth white brows. 

“A most extraordinary thing,” she said. “ I cannot 
find the scarf anywhere. It is quite certain that Mr. 
Anstruther is not wearing it ; I thought perhaps he had 
thrown it carelessly down last night in the excitement of 
the moment, and therefore I asked Serena if she had seen 
anything of it. But she declared that she knew nothing, 
and yet at the same time she seemed to be extraordinarily 
upset and agitated by my simple question. She is not an 
emotional woman, as you know ; therefore her conduct is 
all the more amazing. But the fact remains that this 


i 5 o 


The Yellow Face 


scarf cannot be found, and so I cannot oblige you. I will 

ask Mr. Anstruther if you like ” 

But Jack emphatically wanted nothing of the kind. He 
was in a hurry now, he said, and would call again later in 
the day. He made his way directly to the Planet office, 
where he found that Rigby had just arrived. 

“ No, there are no fresh developments," he explained. 
“ Did you take my advice last night, and have the house 
in Belgrave Gardens watched by a private detective in 
addition to the policeman engaged by Bates? ” 

“ Of course I did,” Rigby replied. “ As a matter of 
fact I have two men at work there ; one to relieve the 
other, and report progress from time to time. In fact, 
one of them has only just come in. He has very little to 
say, but that little was an eye-opener. I have ascertained 
that Anstruther is not even acquainted with Lord Long- 
worth, and yet one of the first men to call in Belgrave 
Gardens this morning was Spencer Anstruther. Now, do 
you think he had anything to do with last night’s busi- 
ness ; otherwise what do you suppose he called for ? ” 

“ That is exactly what I am here to tell you,” Jack said. 
“ The scarf which formed so important a clue belonged 
to Anstruther. It is missing from his house ; in fact, I 
called there this morning on purpose to examine the 
thing. We have hit the right nail on the head this time 
— the lost property in the hands of Inspector Bates is 
beyond a doubt the cherished possession of Spencer 
Anstruther.” -j 


CHAPTER XXI 


A LEADER OF SOCIETY 

It was a most important discovery that Jack had made, 
and Rigby did not fail to see what developments it was 
likely to lead to. If what Masefield had said was true — 
and Rigby saw no reason to doubt it — here they had 
Anstruther directly connected with crime. 

“ Do you really think that our friend actually engineered 
that business at Lord Longworth’s ? ” Rigby asked. 

“I can come to no other conclusion,” Jack replied. 
“ You must understand that Anstruther is a kind of a 
specialist in crime ; he has frequently been consulted by 
the police, and, I believe, has brought off some wonderful 
results. He has even written a book on the subject. Now, 
we know Anstruther to be an unscrupulous rascal. The 
police looked upon him as a brilliant aid to themselves. 
If a man like this chooses to play the part of a criminal 
Dupuin, see what marvelous opportunities he has. He 
knows everything about the movements of the police ; he 
can anticipate all their schemes. It is as if Bates himself 
had turned burglar. Whatever Mrs. Montague might say, 
it is pretty certain that the embroidered scarf belongs to 
Anstruther. Quite inadvertently he left it at Lord Long- 
worth’s last night, where he was passing in the crowd as 
an invited guest.” 

“ I know that sort of thing is done,” Rigby said. “ A 
very impudent example came under my notice the other 
day. The thing is much easier done than one would 
imagine.” 

“ Do you mean to say,” Jack asked, “ that it is possible 
for a gentlemanly scoundrel to walk into the house of some 
great society lady giving a reception, and not be spotted 
immediately for what he is? It seems absurd ! ” 

“ Not a bit of it ! ” Rigby replied. “ To the audacious 
everything is possible. Supposing a duchess is giving a 

151 


152 


The Yellow Face 


reception. She has asked perhaps a thousand guests. 
Half-way through the evening she is so tired and worn 
out that she does not know or care to whom she may be 
speaking. Here is the chance for the gentlemanly swindler 
we are talking about. Of course he is perfectly dressed ; 
he has the most exquisite manners. He lounges up to 
his hostess, and, after the usual greetings, makes some 
confidential remark about some friend of the family, which 
immediately stamps him as one of a certain set. All he 
has got to do now is to saunter along as if the whole place 
belonged to him, and help himself to such costly trifles as 
his mind inclines to.” 

“ Did you ever know of a case in point? ” Jack asked. 

“My dear chap, I not only know of a case, but I was 
more or less party to it. It was done for a bet, and I 
was one of the losers. It was so easily managed that I 
should not in the least mind trying it myself.” 

“Well, it seems very odd to me,” Jack murmured. 
“ Still, if you know it has been done, there is an end of it.” 

“Well, it has been shown pretty conclusively,” said 
Rigby, “that Anstruther must have been there last night.” 

“ Quite so,” Jack went on. “At any rate the scarf was 
left behind. I recognized it as soon as ever I saw it in 
Bates’s hand ; therefore I was absolutely sure that An- 
struther had been at the reception. That is why I sug- 
gested that paragraph in the Planet. It is just the sort 
of silly gossip that papers publish after a sensational 
crime, and is calculated to hamper the police more than 
help them. I felt quite sure that somebody or other would 
bring that paragraph to Anstruther’s notice, and that he 
would lose no time in trying to recover the scarf. I dare 
say there are other scarves like it in existence, but they 
are not so common that Anstruther could afford to take 
any risk. That he realized the gravity of the situation is 
proved by the fact that he has lost no time in calling at 
Lord Longworth’s to recover the missing property. I 
think I have made my case very clear.” 

“Nothing could be clearer,” Rigby replied. “An- 
struther is at the bottom of this business. I should say 


A Leader of Society 153 

he is the cleverest rascal in London at the present moment. 
And mark the cunning of the beast. Don’t you see how 
easy he can prove an alibi ? If he were met face to face 
now, and taxed with the fact that he was at Lord Long- 
worth’s last night he would politely deny it, and, if pressed, 
have not the slightest difficulty of demonstrating that he 
was elsewhere.” 

‘‘But I don’t quite see,” Jack interrupted, “exactly 
how that ” 

“ Clear as mud,” Rigby said. “ Why he has only got 
to call his servants and Miss Helmsley to prove that he 
was in the study all the evening playing his violin.” 

“How stupid of me,” Jack muttered. “The full 
beauty of that little scheme had been lost on me. There 
is a good deal we have to learn yet. But I can’t stay talk- 
ing to you any longer this morning, as I promised Claire 
that I would go and see Lady Barmouth. I have told 
Claire nearly everything there is to learn, and she is quite 
willing to be a friend of Lady Barmouth’s and share her 
troubles. I will see you later on in the day.” 

Jack went off in the direction of Lord Barmouth’s house. 
He had some little hesitation in calling so early in the 
day, but then the matter was imperative, and he knew 
that Lady Barmouth would be glad to hear Claire’s de- 
cision. The lady in question was sitting in her boudoir, 
accompanied by two secretaries, who appeared to be tre- 
mendously busy with a long visiting list and some ex- 
quisitely-designed cards of invitation to a masked ball. 
But Lady Barmouth, heedless of Jack’s apologies, declared 
that she had always time to spare for him. 

“It is not I who am so busy,” she said ; “in fact, this 
is merely mechanical work. I am giving my great party 
of the season, and now that I have made out the list of 
intended guests, the rest is merely mechanical.” 

So saying, Lady Barmouth led the way into an inner 
drawing-room, the door of which she carefully closed. 

“ You have some news for me,” she cried eagerly. “ I 
am quite sure you have come straight to me from Miss 
Helmsley.” 


*54 


The Yellow Face 


“ That is the fact,” Jack said gravely. “ Rather against 
my better judgment, I have told Claire everything. She 
knows now the class of man her guardian is ; she knows 
that she will have to be terribly careful lest he should 
suspect. But Claire has a courage and determination 
which came quite as a surprise to me. I think the secret 
will be safe in her hands.” 

“Yes ! yes ! ” Lady Barmouth cried ; “ but what about 
me?” 

“I was coming to that. It seems to be a case of 
mutual sympathy between you. As a matter of fact it 
seems to me that Claire likes you as well as you like her. 
Anyway, she is going to see you this afternoon, when you 
can talk matters over without reserve. But tell me, does 
Lord Barmouth take any kind of interest in these festivities 
of yours? ” 

“He is goodness and kindness itself,” Lady Barmouth 
said warmly. “He has always insisted that his mis- 
fortunes should not interfere with my personal enjoyment. 
At a dinner, or a reception, or an ordinary dance, my 
husband never shows himself. Despite his terrible mis- 
fortunes he thoroughly enjoys his amusements ; he likes 
to mingle with people, seeing everything, and not being 
seen himself. That is why I give so many of these masked 
balls. This is going to be an extra smart affair, and I 
am asking my lady friends to wear as many jewels as 
possible.” 

“ Claire told me something about it,” Jack said. “I 
gathered that she is to be one of the invited guests.” 

“Iam asking both Miss Helmsley and Mr. Anstruther,” 
Lady Barmouth explained. “There is some danger in 
asking the latter, but one has to take these risks.” 

Jack murmured something that sounded sympathetic. 
Had Lady Barmouth only known it, the risk was far 
greater than she imagined. If Jack’s suspicions were 
correct that Anstruther was mixed up with a gang of 
expert thieves, here then was a golden opportunity. The 
mere fact of it being a masked ball simply added to his 
opportunities. So deeply did Jack ponder over this, that 


A Leader of Society 155 

it was some little time before he grasped the fact that Lady 
Barmouth was still giving him details of the forthcoming 
function. 

“I am asking a lot of most prominent actresses,” she 
said, “together with a number of leading musicians, and 
they are getting up a kind of morris dance. Of course, 
the music will be supplied by a small band of famous 
artists, and I am getting this new man Padini to be 
present. ’ ’ 

Here was more news with a vengeance. But there was 
nothing to be gained by telling Lady Barmouth what had 
been elicited with regard to Padini. 

“ I presume I shall be honored with an invitation,” Jack 
suggested. “ I see from the expression of your face that I 
am to be a guest. Might I beg the favor of a card for a 
friend of mine? ” 

“More mysteries!” Lady Barmouth laughed. “Oh, 
you need not tell me unless it is absolutely necessary. 
You shall take the card away with you if you like, and 
deliver it to your friend personally.” 

Jack was seeing his way pretty clearly by this time. 
He was anticipating more than one important discovery 
during the progress of the masked dance. The card he 
had begged was, of course, for Rigby, and it would go 
hard if between them they did not discover something of 
importance. 

“ Now, I am going to speak to you on a more or less 
painful topic,” Jack said gravely. “And I am going to 
ask you to be exceedingly candid with me. I want you 
to tell me what is the exact connection between Lord Bar- 
mouth and the Nostalgo posters which are so prominent in 
London at present.” 

The jeweled pen with which Lady Barmouth had been 
scribbling on the two invitation cards fell from her fingers 
on to the blotting pad. There were trouble and unhappi- 
ness in her eyes, her face had turned deadly pale ; it was 
some little time before she spoke. 

“Must I really tell you that?” she almost pleaded. 
“ You are striking directly at the root of the unhappiness 


156 The Yellow Face 

which poisons this house. It is not as if you really knew 
anything ” 

“ But indeed I know more than you give me credit for,” 
Jack urged. “ It was of no seeking of mine ; it was not 
the result of any vulgar curiosity ; but last night when 
your husband was here I caught one glimpse of his face 
in the light of the log fire. And there I saw at once that 
I was face to face with Nostalgo. Believe me, it is with 
the greatest possible regret that I have to speak like this, 
but I am near to the heart of the mystery, and if you are 
plain and frank with me I am sanguine enough to believe 
that I can remove your unhappiness altogether.” 

“But the secret is not my own,” Lady Barmouth 
faltered. 

“Then let us assume that I have wrested it from you,” 
Jack murmured. “It is no fault of yours that I know so 
much. It is no fault of yours that you are in some way 
under an obligation to somebody — an obligation which 
compelled you to be in Montrose Place last night. Luckily 
for us you kept your appointment. But there was some- 
body else also keeping an appointment in the courtyard. 
Whether he came there dragged by the force of circum- 
stances, or whether he came to watch, matters little. But 
as he paused to light a cigarette and the pallid blue of the 
flame shone on his face I recognized — Lord Barmouth.” 

The listener said nothing ; she merely bowed her head 
over the blotting pad before her. 

“ Ah ! I feel the circumstances are too strong for me,” 
she said. “It is as if you were pushing me over the edge 
of a precipice. I cannot decide this matter on my own 
initiative.” 

“That is exactly the line I hoped you would take,” 
Jack cried eagerly. “After his interview with us last 
night, Lord Barmouth must be perfectly sure of the fact 
that Rigby and myself are actuated by the kindest motives 
towards him. Go and see him now, tell him all that I 
have said to you, and ask him if he will be good enough 
to grant me a ten minutes’ private conversation. I am 
sure he will do this ; indeed, if he refuses, there are others 


A Leader of Society 157 

interested in the matter who may cause him to say in 
public what he declines to admit in private.” 

“I will do as you suggest,” Lady Barmouth replied, 
“ though I fear you will be met with a refusal as firm as it 
is courteous. If you will excuse me for a moment ” 

Lady Barmouth said no more, but turned hurriedly and 
left the room. That she was very deeply moved Jack could 
see for himself. She came back presently, with a wan, 
white ghost of a smile on her lips, and a remark to the 
effect that Lord Barmouth was not prepared to accede to 
Jack’s request off-hand, but that he would give it his 
earnest consideration, and send his decision in the course 
of a quarter of an hour. 

“It is exceedingly awkward for me,” Jack said ; “ you 
can see how delicate the ground is I stand upon. But 
believe me I am only being cruel to be kind. I am sure 
that when I have finished my interview with Lord Bar- 
mouth he will be exceedingly glad that he has consented to 
see me.” 

“ Oh, I quite understand your feelings,” Lady Barmouth 
exclaimed. “ It must be dreadful for a gentleman to ap- 
pear obtruding like this. But are you quite sure that the 
figure you saw in the courtyard at Montrose Place last night 
was my husband ? You seem to have forgotten the other 
Nostalgo who was supposed to have been found dead by 
yourself in Panton Square the other night.” 

Jack admitted readily enough that there were many 
sides to the mystery as yet unsolved. He was still dis- 
cussing the point, when the footman entered, and gravely 
announced that Lord Barmouth was waiting to see Mr. 
Masefield. Lady Barmouth rose to her feet at once, and 
escorted Jack to a small room at the end of the corridor. 
The apartment was in complete darkness ; it was just pos- 
sible to discern the outline of a figure in an armchair. 

“I am pleased to see you, Mr. Masefield. I think you 
will find an armchair on the other side of the fireplace. 
My dear, I shall be pleased if you will leave Mr. Masefield 
and myself alone together.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE PORTRAIT 

Jack sat there silently enough, waiting for Lord Bar- 
mouth to speak. The difficulty and delicacy of the situa- 
tion were by no means lost upon him. He shuffled about 
uneasily in his chair, trying to make something definite out 
of the still figure opposite him. 

“I quite appreciate your feelings,” Lord Barmouth 
said, in the deep, thrilling tones that Jack remembered 
so well. “It is no nice thing for a gentleman to thrust 
himself into the private sorrows of an unfortunate man 
like myself. But my wife has told me all that you have 
been recently saying to her. You seem to be under the 
impression that you saw me in Montrose Place last night ; 
in fact, that you recognized my face, which I imprudently 
disclosed whilst I was lighting a cigarette. Mr. Masefield, 
1 am not disposed to deny the accusation.” 

“I hope you will be perfectly candid with me,” Jack 
said, speaking with some hesitation; “believe me, I am 
actuated by the highest motives ; believe me, I would do 
anything to rid you of the shadow that darkens your life. 
Of course, I have my theory on the subject of the strange 
business ; a business which has been literally thrust upon 
me by stress of circumstances. Up to a short time ago, 
like most people, I looked upon the Nostalgo poster as 
a high ingenuity in the way of advertising art. It was a 
wonderful effort, and most cleverly executed. But I should 
not have been in the least surprised to find that Nostalgo 
was an acrobat or a juggler, or even some new and clever 
way of introducing a fresh kind of soap to the credulous 
British public.” 

“Yes,” Barmouth said thoughtfully, “ I suppose one 
would have been satisfied in that way.” 

“ But I speak with the discovery that I was mistaken,” 
Jack went on. “ The first thing that aroused my sus- 


The Portrait 


159 


picions was more a girlish fancy than anything else. Of 
course you know Mr. Spencer Anstruther very well by 
name ? ” 

“ Ay, I know him by something more than name," Bar- 
mouth said, in deep, thrilling tones. “ If that scoundrel 
had never been born I should — but I am interrupting you. 
Pray proceed.” 

“Well, to revert to what I was saying,” Jack went on, 
“that Nostalgo poster was hardly fully impressed upon 
my mind’s eye, before I began to notice some grotesque 
resemblance between it and Spencer Anstruther. Without 
hurting your feelings, the poster is devilishly hideous ; 
Anstruther, on the other hand, is a singularly handsome 
man. But, despite all this, despite my common sense, I 
could not rid myself of the idea that the likeness was some- 
where. 

“A chance remark of mine served to confirm my im- 
pression. It threw Anstruther into a sudden fit of passion. 
His face was literally convulsed with fury, but only for 
an instant. Still, that instant sufficed. There was Nos- 
talgo in the flesh before me — the same drawn- up lips, the 
same hideous squint of the oblique eyes, the same dreadful, 
hawkish look about the nose. A second later the likeness 
was gone. I cannot forget, I never shall forget my feelings 
at that moment. If I fail to interest you ” 

“You are interesting me more than words can tell,” 
Barmouth said hoarsely. “Pray proceed.” 

“ There is not much more to tell,” Jack said. “ Per- 
haps you have heard of the Nostalgo devil whom I found 
dead the other night in Panton Square ? I mean the man 
whose body so mysteriously vanished from the Shannon 
Street station ? ” 

“Yes, I heard of that,” Barmouth admitted; “but 
you will not be in the least astonished to learn that the 
whole affair was no surprise to me. All the same, I think 
you will find later on that the supposed victim is not dead 
at all. And now I am going to speak, and you are going 
to listen.” 

Jack intimated that he desired nothing better. He 


i6o 


The Yellow Face 


could make out the outline of the figure opposite him, 
wriggling and twisting in his chair. 

“As you are quite aware, a little more than two years 
ago I went to Mexico. There was no thought of evil in 
my mind ; I went out merely with an eye to sport. I have 
been fond of adventure all my life, and Mexico seemed to 
afford a fine field for such amusements as I was looking 
for. But the shooting was a great disappointment, and I 
had to turn elsewhere for recreation. A little later on I 
found myself in Southern Mexico, living with a half-savage 
tribe, who showed signs that at some long-forgotten period 
the same tribe had enjoyed a high state of civilization. 
As a matter of fact, there were two of these tribes living 
only a few leagues apart, and both exceedingly antagonistic 
to each other. 

“ Of course I had to throw my lot in with one section, 
and take care that I didn’t fall into the hands of the other. 
The reason of this bitterness I discovered arose from the 
fact that both claimed possession of a belt of land which 
was supposed to contain gold. Now, I am an exceedingly 
rich man, as you know. But I got the gold fever as badly 
as if I had been the neediest adventurer who ever wielded 
pick and shovel. 

“ I had been told by my friends that the leader of the 
other section was an Englishman like myself. He was 
supposed to have married one of the women of the tribe, 
and adopted their manners and customs. Of course, I 
needed no one to tell me that only such a powerful incen- 
tive as gold could have persuaded an educated Englishman 
to remain permanently with a tribe. This other section 
was far the more powerful of the two, and they gave us fair 
warning that any of us that were caught in the gold belt 
would be likely to suffer for it. This was quite good enough 
for me. Picking out a score of the most daring adventurers, 
we made up our minds to put in some exploring without 
delay. I may mention the fact that some of these adven- 
turers were Europeans also. Anyway, we set out one 
evening, and morning found us lighting our camp-fire right 
in the heart of the gold belt. 


The Portrait 


161 


“ On that occasion I had been left behind to look after 
the cooking whilst the others pushed on to a likely spot 
where indications of the precious metal might be found. 
My companions had hardly disappeared from sight before 
a man came riding up to me and demanded my business. 
It was quite easy to see that he was an Englishman, despite 
the fact that he was arrayed in the full war paint of the 
tribe. He was a fine, powerful man, and his face denoted 
great intellectual gifts. Come, Mr. Masefield, you are a 
clever man yourself, and therefore will have no difficulty in 
guessing who the stranger was.” 

“ Anstruther for a hundred,” Masefield cried. 

“ You have guessed it exactly, as I thought you would,” 
Lord Barmouth went on gravely. “ It was Anstruther, 
and no other. He wasted no time in demanding to know 
what I was doing there. He warned me of the dreadful 
pains and penalties likely to occur if I remained where I 
was, but I laughed him to scorn. By way of reply he 
gave a shrill whistle, and there emerged from the scrubby 
brush a small misshapen man with the most hideous face 
that it has ever been my lot to look upon. Need I describe 
that face, Mr. Masefield?” 

“No,” Jack said, in an awed voice. “ It was another 
Nostalgo. * ’ 

“Once more you have guessed it,” Barmouth went on 
in the same grave way. “Anstruther pointed to the 
shrinking figure by his side, and told me that I must either 
go back at once, or that I must suffer the same fate as the 
man by his side. My blood was hot then ; I cared for no 
man. I do not exactly know how it commenced, but pres- 
ently we were exchanging revolver shots, each determined 
to do for the other. I suppose somebody crept up behind 
me, for I was just conscious of a terrible blow on the back 
of the head, and then I remembered no more. 

“ When I came to myself I was lying in a deserted hut, 
absolutely alone, and with a feeling upon me that I had 
just recovered from a long and painful illness. There was 
food beside me, a little native spirit in a bottle ; my clothes 
were neatly laid at the foot of my bed. When I reached 


162 


The Yellow Face 


the open I recognized the fact that I was in a spot some 
fifty miles on the far side of the gold belt. From the 
length of my beard I calculated that I must have been 
lying there for some three weeks. My horse I found out- 
side, and, feeling strong enough to proceed on my 
journey, I rode off in the direction of the tribe to which I 
was attached. I was feeling fairly well, and conscious 
only of a strange tightening sensation in the muscles of the 
face. 

‘‘At that moment I had no conception of the awful 
misfortune which had overtaken me. I was glad enough 
at length to come in contact with one or two members of 
my tribe. Judge of my astonishment when they fled as if 
in terror at my approach. It was the same in the village. 
I might have been afflicted with some loathsome disease, 
seeing how everybody ran at my approach. I reached 
my hut at length, tired, and hot, and angry, my 
first idea being to shave and make myself respectable. A 
glance at my looking-glass revealed the whole hideous 
truth. I was as I am at this moment : a ghastly carica- 
ture of a man, who dared not look his fellow creatures in 
the face.” 

It was some time before Lord Barmouth spoke again. 
It was not for Jack to interrupt the tenor of his painful 
thoughts. But the silence was so long that he felt bound 
to speak at length. 

“ But how does this give Anstruther such a hold on 
you ? ” he asked. 

“ That is another matter entirely,” Barmouth explained, 
“though, of course, it touches on the main issue. You 
see, that though Anstruther knows me as the James Smith 
I used to be called in Mexico, he has not the remotest idea 
that I am Lord Barmouth. In fact, that man blackmails 
me.” 

“ I don’t quite follow,” Jack said. 

“ I admit it sounds a little complicated,” Barmouth 
went on. “ As my real self Anstruther does not know me. 
Why should he interest himself in an apparently broken- 
down hypochondriac ? The man he cares about is ‘ James 


The Portrait 


163 

Smith/ the Nostalgo whom he regards as a relative of my 
wife, and who lives here in some secluded part of the 
house. Heaven only knows if he is really aware of the 
truth, for he is so clever a scoundrel that he is quite 
capable of deceiving me on that point till the time is ripe 
to expose me and degrade me despite the sums of money I 
have paid him. I do not know, I dare not ask. Call me 
a coward if you like, but if you had gone through what I 
have ” 

Barmouth paused, and wiped the moisture from his 
forehead. 

“If I were not Lord Barmouth,” he continued, “I 
would care little or nothing for what he says ; but for the 
sake of my wife I have to submit to his persecutions. 
Therefore it is that at certain seasons of the year I meet 
Anstruther in Montrose Place and hand him over a thou- 
sand pounds. But there is one drawback to Anstruther’s 
mastery of the situation. There are other men who were 
as vilely treated as myself, and some day Anstruther will 
fall by the hand of one of them. 

“ If you ask me why those hideous posters have been 
lately dotted about London, I can’t tell you ; I feel quite 
sure that they are some ingenious design of Anstruther’ s. 
I feel quite sure also that that Nostalgo you picked up the 
other night was here after Anstruther’s blood, and that he 
died at Anstruther’s instigation. My only consolation is 
the fact that my wife absolutely refused to break off 
her engagement on the strength of my terrible disfigure- 
ment. It was a long time before I yielded, but yield I 
did at length. And now that you know so much, perhaps 
you will be so good as to draw up the blinds, and let us 
talk face to face ; that is, of course, if you do not object 
to ” 

Jack hastily disclaimed any objection. He drew the 
blinds aside, and a flood of light poured into the room. It 
was a little difficult to repress a shudder at first, but he 
found himself presently talking to Barmouth as if his face 
had been like those of other men. 

“ You will find some cigarettes ; this is my own room/* 


The Yellow Face 


164 

Barmouth explained. “ I furnished it more with an eye to 
comfort than anything else.” 

But Jack was not listening. He took up a cigarette 
mechanically, and was gazing intently at a photograph in 
a large silver frame standing on the mantelpiece. It was 
the face of a woman ; a dark melancholy face, with mourn- 
ful eyes. 

“Would you mind telling me who that is?” Jack 
asked. 

“A sister of my wife’s,” Barmouth explained. “ It is 
rather a sad story.” 

Jack said nothing. But the face looking into his own 
was the face of Anstruther’s servant, Serena. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


FACE TO FACE 

It was perhaps fortunate for Jack that Lord Barmouth 
appeared to be engrossed in his own painful thoughts. At 
any rate he did not seem to notice that his youthful 
visitor’s gaze was fixed so intently upon the photograph. 
So far as Jack could see, the picture had been taken some 
years before, and had not that wild, defiant, yet half-sad 
expression which marked Serena to-day. There was not 
much time to think, but Jack rapidly made up his mind. 
He would say nothing to Barmouth of his discovery, but 
would open up the matter as delicately as possible with 
Lady Barmouth. It was not a nice thing for a compara- 
tive stranger to intrude upon sacred griefs like this, but 
the discovery was so likely to lead to important results 
that it would have been folly to hesitate. It was some 
considerable time later before Jack left Lord Barmouth, 
who shook him warmly by the hand, and implored him to 
come again. 

“You can imagine what a lonely life mine is,” Bar- 
mouth murmured; “my wife is devotion itself, but one 
longs for the company of a man sometimes.” 

Jack promised sincerely enough that he would come 
again and often. He had taken a great liking to the lonely 
man who bore his cruel misfortunes so well. He had not 
intended at present to worry Lady Barmouth with the re- 
cent discovery, but she happened to be crossing the hall, 
and looked upon Jack eagerly and curiously. 

Jack was about to say something to Lady Barmouth, 
when some one called her, and she turned away. Evi- 
dently she had no intention to allow Masefield to leave the 
house without satisfying herself as to the result of his 
interview with Lord Barmouth. With this feeling upon 

165 


i66 


The Yellow Face 


him, Jack lingered in the hall. He suddenly recollected 
that he had left his gloves behind him, and returned for 
them. He found Barmouth standing before the fireplace, 
apparently lost in thought. Jack had to speak twice 
before his host realized the fact that he was no longer 
alone. 

“I came back for my gloves,” Jack explained. “I 
left them on the little table behind there. I am sorry to 
intrude upon you again, but since you have been so kind 
to me ” 

“ On the contrary, it is you who have been so kind to 
me,” Barmouth said. “I am not sorry you came back, 
because I have been thinking over the interview which we 
have just concluded. I might have told you a great deal 
more than I did ; indeed, I was perhaps unwise to be so 
reticent. If you will come and see me again ” 

“ I will come and see you as often as I can get an op- 
portunity,” Jack said warmly. “ Apart from the gratifica- 
tion of my vulgar curiosity, I have been wonderfully enter- 
tained by your experiences. I saw Lady Barmouth in the 
hall just now, and I know that she is anxious to learn how 
we got on together.” 

Jack went out again, with a feeling that he was more 
and more drawn towards his unfortunate host. He lin- 
gered in the hall for a moment gazing at the fine pictures 
and the artistic arranging of the flowers, hoping that Lady 
Barmouth would return. He had not long to wait, for 
presently she came floating down the stairs again. There 
was a pleased smile on her face. 

“Oh, I am so glad you stayed so long,” she said. 
“ My poor George must have enjoyed your society or he 
would not have detained you. I am sure you got on very 
well together.” 

“ We got on very well indeed together,” Jack explained. 
“I have now a pretty shrewd idea of this Nostalgo busi- 
ness. During my interview with your husband I made a 
still more stupendous discovery.” 

“Something that affects my husband’s case?” Lady 
Barmouth asked eagerly. 


Face to Face 


167 

"I think it touches it very deeply indeed,” Jack said 
gravely. “ May I intrude upon you for another five min- 
utes? Mind you, I have said nothing of this to Lord Bar- 
mouth, because it seems to me to concern you alone.” 

Lady Barmouth led the way back to the small drawing- 
room again. Her eyes were fairly dancing with curiosity. 

“It is about your sister,” Jack said — “ the sister whose 
photograph stands on the mantelpiece in your husband’s 
room.” 

“Oh, must we really go into that?” Lady Barmouth 
asked, with a shade of coldness in her voice. “ There are 
matters so sacred that even the most sincere friend ” 

“Believe me, I am speaking under the strongest sense 
of duty,” Jack urged. “ Nothing else would induce me to 
speak. Lord Barmouth told me it was a very painful sub- 
ject, but we must go into it.” 

“It is a painful subject,” Lady Barmouth murmured. 
“ She was my youngest sister, and very dear to us all. I 
do not say she had no faults ; indeed, she had far too 
many. But she was very lovable in spite of her headstrong 
ways and her quick fits of passion. She never got on par- 
ticularly well with my father, who all the same cared for 
her very much indeed. She was sent at the age of seven- 
teen from Southern Mexico, where we lived at that time, 
to finish her education in London. I don’t know why, 
but it seemed to be assumed that she was the daughter of 
very rich parents, and that in the course of time she would 
inherit a great deal of money. Be that as it may, she con- 
trived to fall head over heels in love with her music-mas- 
ter, and they ran away together and got married. We 
never quite knew the name of the man ; however, it was 
something quite foreign, and, judging from what happened 
afterwards, probably was no more than an alias. My sis- 
ter’s letter to her father announcing her marriage was re- 
turned to her unread, and she was given to understand 
that she could no longer consider herself one of the family. 
That sorry scoundrel who had brought so much unhappi- 
ness on the poor girl’s head basely deserted her, and from 
that day to this I have seen nothing of the poor child.” 


i68 


The Yellow Face 


“ She did not write to you, she did not communicate 
with you in any way? ” Jack asked. 

“ I have just told you that I have never heard of or seen 
the poor girl since. She was as proud as she was high- 
spirited, and after what had happened would have died 
rather than have appealed to any of us for assistance. But 
why do you ask? ” 

“Because I recognized in the portrait in question the 
features of one who I see nearly every day of my life. 
There can be no question about the matter at all, Lady 
Barmouth — your sister has been for a long time Spencer 
Anstruther’ s housekeeper.” 

“You astonish me ; you move me more than words can 
tell. My sister in the house of that man ? Do you mean 
to suggest for a moment ” 

“lam not suggesting anything whatever that is wrong,” 
Jack said earnestly. “For some time past I have been 
trying to make a study of the poor woman who calls her- 
self Serena ” 

“ That is my sister’s second name,” Lady Barmouth in- 
terposed. 

“ Yes ! But I have not made much progress. It is 
quite evident to me that your poor sister has had a terribly 
stormy past* Not that her spirits are broken, for there 
comes ever and again in her face the look of one who is 
prepared to” fight to the bitter end. All the same, she is 
absolutely under the domination of Spencer Anstruther ; 
she watches his every movement; indeed, it is almost as 
if he had hypnotized her. But that there is anything 
wrong — oh, no, Anstruther simply regards your sister as 
one of his creatures.” 

“lam quite unnerved by all you have to tell me,” Lady 
Barmouth cried. “ It has always been my prayer that my 
poor sister and myself should meet again, because I, for 
one, have never blamed her for that which, after all, is 
more her misfortune than her fault. She was very young 
at the time that she gave her heart into the keeping of that 
scoundrel, very young and very romantic. And goodness* 


Face to Face 169 

.knows she paid enough for her folly. I must see her at 
once. I will go with you ” 

“ Not to Anstruther’ s house,” Jack protested. “ Think 
of the danger of it.” 

‘‘But Mr. Anstruther merely knows me as Lady Bar- 
mouth. He knows nothing of Lord Barmouth as Lord 
Barmouth. We can easily assume that I came to ask the 
character of a servant. Oh, do not let us wait ! If you 
only knew how anxious I am to see Serena again ! ” 

Jack shrugged his shoulders and allowed the point to 
pass. At any rate he suggested that Lady Barmouth should 
possess her soul in patience a little longer. Usually the 
hours between five and seven were spent by Anstruther at 
his club, where he often indulged in a rubber of whist ; 
indeed, he was very regular in this respect. Jack ex- 
pounded all this to Lady Barmouth, who listened to him 
with more or less impatience. 

“ Let it be as you please,” she said. “ I am afraid you 
do not quite understand my feelings ; still, you have been 
so good and kind and patient all through this miserable 
business that I am loth to do anything to mar your chances 
of success. Come and have a cup of tea with me, and then 
it will be time to start.” 

It was a little after six before Jack and Lady Barmouth 
set out in the direction of Panton Square. They came to 
the house at length, and Jack rang the bell. Some little 
time elapsed before there was any response, and Jack rang 
again. He was getting slightly uneasy by this time ; so 
many things had happened lately that therefore it was pos- 
sible that something equally strange might have recently 
been enacted in Panton Square. He pulled the bell again, 
this time furiously. 

“It looks as if everybody was out,” Lady Barmouth 
suggested. 

“And yet I fancy I can hear somebody,” Jack said, 
with his eye on the keyhole. “Iam sure that I saw some- 
body flit across the hall. Let us try again.” 

Another furious peal at the bell brought a halting foot- 


170 


The Yellow Face 


step, as if dragged unwillingly in the direction of the door, 
and then a voice inside faintly demanded to know who 
was there. 

“Who are you? ” Jack asked — his fears had rendered 
him a little impatient, “ and what have you to be afraid 
of? Please open the door. I tell you that ” 

“Is that really you, Jack?” the voice inside said in 
tones of deep relief. It was easy to detect that Claire was 
the speaker now. “ I will open the door for you at 
once. ’ ’ 

There was a fumbling at the bolts and latch, and then 
the heavy portal swung back. Claire’s face was very pale, 
her hands were trembling, and there was something like 
terror in her eyes. 

“I hope nothing wrong has happened ?” Jack said 
anxiously. 

“Well, no,” Claire explained, “nothing what you 
might call really wrong.” All the same, she was holding 
her hand to her heart like one who has run fast and far. 
“It was not on my account that I feared; it was for 
Serena’s sake.” 

“Are you and Serena alone in the house?” Jack 
asked. 

“ Absolutely. The other two maids have gone out for 
the day, and, as my uncle is dining at his club, I did not 
bother about a set dinner, and was going to have a small 
dish sent up for myself. A few minutes ago Serena came 
to me in a state of terrible agitation, saying that somebody 
had called to see my guardian. Though he was assured 
that Mr. Anstruther was out, and was not likely to return 
before it was time to dress for dinner, the man persisted in 
refusing to believe the statement. He pushed his way into 
the hall, and locked the door behind him, saying that it 
was his intention to search the house. He was so rude 
and overbearing that Serena was naturally frightened, and 
came to me. I hope you won’t blame me unduly, but I 
was as frightened as Serena herself. I summoned up 
courage at length to face this man, but when I reached 
the hall I found that he had unlocked the door again, and 


Face to Face 


171 

had vanished. But not before he had been all over the 
house.” 

“ Was he rude, or did he use anything like violence ? ” 
Jack asked heatedly. “ Oh, this sort of thing is abomi- 
nable. Ask Serena to come here, and give me a description 
of the fellow. Then I will go off at once, and place the 
matter in the hands of the police.” 

So agitated and upset was Claire that she had entirely 
overlooked the presence of Lady Barmouth, who stood in 
the dim shadow of the hall listening to this amazing story. 
She went off now in the direction of the kitchen, where 
she seemed to be engaged in persuading the terrified 
Serena to come forward. The latter came presently, with 
a trembling, halting footstep, and Lady Barmouth shrank 
closer against the wall. The electric light had not been 
switched on yet, so that it was almost too dark to recog- 
nize the features of Anstruther’s housekeeper. Jack 
rather wondered to see Serena so terribly upset. Broken 
as she was by misfortune, and dominated as she was by 
Anstruther’s strong personality, she did not lack pluck and 
spirit, as Jack had seen on more than one occasion. 

“ You seem to have been subjected to a rather unpleas- 
ant experience,” he said. “What class of man was the 
fellow who insisted on pushing his way into the house 
like this ? A half-intoxicated workman, or some loafing 
rascal ” 

“Oh, nothing of the kind,” Serena replied. She was 
getting her voice well under control now. “ The man 
was dressed as well as yourself, Mr. Masefield. It was 
not his appearance that frightened me in the least, at least 
not his outward appearance. Nor was he in the least 
abusive or violent.” 

“ But tell us what he looked like,” Jack said impa- 
tiently. “I want a description for the benefit of the 
police.” 

Serena seemed to hesitate for a moment, and a curious 
expression passed like a shadow over her worn, sad face. 

“ Oh, you will not laugh at me, you will not make fun 
of what I am going to say ? It was not quite dark ; in 


1 7 2 


The Yellow Face 


fact, there was plenty of light when I opened the door for 
that man. His hat was turned down, and his coat collar 
was turned up. As the door was thrown open, he lifted 
his hat to me with a natural courtesy that belongs to every 
well-bred man. And then I saw his face. It was exactly 
the same face as that.” 

Serena broke off suddenly, as if her emotions were too 
strong for her. The front door had not yet been closed ; 
the strong flare of a great arc light lit up the hoarding 
on the far side of the street. With a trembling hand 
Serena pointed to the central poster on the hoarding. 
Jack started as he followed the direction of her shaking 
finger. 

“ What !” he cried; “ Nostalgo ! Another Nostalgo ! 
Do you mean to say that he has been here to-night ? ” 

“Yes,” Serena said simply, “it is just as I have told 
you.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


IN THE SQUARE 

Jack said no more for the present. He closed the front 
door quietly, not forgetting, however, to glance at the 
great clock, and stopping to calculate that a good half- 
hour must elapse before Anstruther returned. It would 
have been a great misfortune indeed if the latter had come 
home at that moment. In a mechanical kind of way 
Serena turned into the dining-room, where she proceeded 
to pull down the blinds and switch on the lights. At a 
sign from Jack, Lady Barmouth remained where she was 
for the moment, and Masefield, together with Claire, en- 
tered the dining-room. 

“I am bound to ask you a few questions,” he said, 
turning to Serena. “ For instance, I have yet to learn why 
the walking image of that poster should have frightened 
you so terribly.” 

“It was Adolpho returned from the grave,” Serena 
murmured. Apparently she was talking to herself. “ Be- 
yond all question poor Adolpho -” 

She paused in some confusion, and looked guiltily from 
Claire to Jack. The latter was not slow to take up the 
point. 

“So you have actually seen the man before? ” he de- 
manded. “ Well, we will not discuss that at present. A 
little later on perhaps I shall ask you to speak more freely. 
Meanwhile, I may as well tell you that I came here to- 
night with a lady desirous of seeing you.” 

Serena was alert and eager in a moment. Jack could 
see that the fighting look had returned to her face ; her 
eyes dilated strangely. She seemed to guess by some 
subtle instinct exactly what was going to happen. 

173 


174 


The Yellow Face 


“My sister,” she whispered. Her voice was very 
strained and low. “Something tells me that my sister is 
here. I pray you go away and get rid of her at once. 
Tell her any lie, invent any falsehood. If you have the 
slightest feeling for the most miserable woman in the 
world you will do this thing for me.” 

“ But it is too late,” Jack protested. “ Lady Barmouth 
is with me ; she is waiting in the hall at the present mo- 
ment, and she has already seen your face.” 

“ But I do not understand,” Serena cried, stretching out 
her hands hopelessly. “ I have but one sister whom I be- 
lieve to be living, and her name is Grace. Lady Bar- 
mouth cannot possibly be anything to me.” 

“Lady Barmouth is your sister all the same,” Jack ex- 
plained. “ She married Lord Barmouth after you left 
home ; she has told me your sad story, and you must be- 
lieve that she has been looking for you everywhere. Surely 
you would not punish yourself for that which was after all 
merely an act of girlish folly? ” 

Serena covered her face with her hands and burst into 
tears. Her head fell forward on the table. Presently an 
arm stole about her neck. When she looked up again it 
was to meet the tender and softened gaze of Lady Bar- 
mouth. 

“ And so we meet again like this after all these years,” 
Lady Barmouth said gently. “Oh, my dear Serena, how 
could you go off like that ; how could you leave us all 
without a word or a sign ? Our father was a harsh man ; 
his pride was his besetting sin, but he would have for- 
given you and taken you to his heart again if only you 
had returned to the old home. Didn’t you suppose that I 
cared ? And after all said and done, what is your crime ? 
You trusted a man who was not worthy of your affection, 
and he deserted you because you lacked the money for 
which he married you. If that is a crime, then there are 
many thousands of poor women in the world in the same 
sad plight.” 

Meanwhile Jack and Claire had crept quietly from the 
room. It would have been indelicate to remain there in 


In the Square 175 

the circumstances. Jack, looking at Claire, noted that 
the tears were also in her eyes. 

“What a strangely pathetic thing,” Claire murmured. 
“ How did it come about, Jack ? ” 

Jack explained the story of the photograph, but Claire 
was hardly listening. It seemed such a strange, sad story 
to her, this pathetic meeting between the two sisters. 

“ But you don’t suppose that Mr. Anstruther knows?” 
Claire asked. “You do not imagine for a moment that 
he is aware of the fact that Serena is Lady Barmouth’s 
sister ? ” 

“I hope to goodness no,” Jack exclaimed. “But I 
don’t see how the thing could be possible. To begin with, 
the sisters are not in the least alike, and in addition to this 
Serena had not the least idea that Lady Barmouth had 
married. What I am most afraid of now is that Anstruther 
should come back and discover those two women together. ” 

Claire nodded gravely, with one eye on the clock. It 
was only a matter of minutes now when Anstruther would 
return. He was dining at his club to-night, Claire ex- 
plained, with Mr. Carrington, at eight o’clock, and as it 
was now a quarter past seven, there was not much time for 
him to dress and get back to St. James’s Street again. 

“In that case I must intrude myself upon those two 
ladies,” Jack said firmly. “ I will put Lady Barmouth in 
a cab and send her home. It will be quite easy for the 
sisters to arrange a meeting at Lady Barmouth’s house. 
Keep Anstruther out of the dining-room if he comes in.” 

Jack strode resolutely across the hall, and placed the 
matter tersely and vigorously before the sisters. “ It 
would never do,” he explained, “for Anstruther to find 
you here at this moment.” 

Serena’s eyes were swollen with weeping. There were 
the deep marks of tears upon her cheeks. Lady Bar- 
mouth’s worldly training had stood her in better stead, 
but she also carried traces of emotion which could not be 
wiped out in a moment. 

“I am going to put you in a cab at once,” Jack said. 
“ Anstruther may be here any instant, and you can imagine 


The Yellow Face 


176 

how necessary it is to keep him in the dark. Besides, you 
can easily arrange a meeting in a safer atmosphere than 
this.” 

With a brief remark to the effect that she would com- 
municate with Serena again, Lady Barmouth left the 
room, and permitted Jack to escort her to a cab. The 
latter breathed more freely as the clatter of the horses’ 
hoofs died away. He ran back quickly to the house again 
to give a few last words of instruction to Claire. 

“You look all right now,” he said, “but Serena’s case 
is entirely different. Take my advice, and send her up to 
her room. If you are not going to dine in the proper 
sense of the word, there is no reason why Serena should 
appear again till Anstruther has gone to his club. And I 
will go, too ; I don’t want our worthy host to know that I 
have been here this evening.” 

Jack went off thoughtfully in the direction of the square. 
It was a particularly good-class neighborhood, and gen- 
erally very quiet at this time of the evening. The half- 
hour past seven had just struck from a neighboring clock. 
In most of the dining-rooms on the north side of the square 
brilliant lights demonstrated the fact that folk were at din- 
ner. With the exception of a solitary policeman nobody 
was in sight. As is usual with the majority of London 
squares, the place was none too well lighted, and there 
were just sufficient lamps to throw the shadows of the gar- 
den in deeper relief. It had often occurred to Jack how 
easy crime and violence would be in circumstances like 
these. 

Jack’s imagination was working freely now; indeed, it 
would have been odd if his brain had not been screwed to 
a high pitch by the events of the day. Coming towards 
him now, swinging along at a good pace, was a tall, slim 
figure, which seemed familiar to Masefield. As the figure 
paused under a lamp to look at his watch, Jack could see 
the figure was that of Anstruther. He congratulated him- 
self upon the fact that he had got away from Panton Square 
before Anstruther returned. He crossed the road in a 
casual sort of way, and passed along under the shadow of 


In the Square 177 

the houses so that Anstruther had no idea how he was be- 
ing watched. 

The latter paused again, just by the entrance to the 
square gardens, the gates of which had not yet been locked, 
though it was considerably past the hour when the gardens 
were closed to the public. Anstruther stood there as if 
debating something in his mind, then suddenly another 
figure came like a lightning flash from inside the garden 
gates, and fell upon Anstruther with terrible swiftness. 

So sudden and unexpected was it that Jack could hardly 
believe the evidence of his own eyes. Anstruther gave 
one gurgling cry, his hands went up as if imploring as- 
sistance, then he settled down to a fray which could only 
end in one fashion. It was impossible where Jack stood 
for him to make out anything more than the mere outline 
of the man who had so unexpectedly fallen upon Anstruther. 
But there was no mistaking the grimness of his intention : 
there was sinister design in every movement of the body 
This was no common square thief, intent upon a paltry 
meed of plunder, but a man who had deliberately picked 
out his prey with the intention of mauling it to the death. 

All this passed as it were in the twinkling of an eye. 
Jack knew now that he would have to pull himself together 
and advance to the rescue. As he flew across the road he 
heard in a mechanical sort of fashion the heavy footstep 
of a policeman clanging on the quiet pavement some little 
way off. Here, at any rate, was aid fairly close at hand. 
But Jack was not the kind of man to wait in an emergency 
like this. Before he could cross the road he saw that 
Anstruther was prostrate on the pavement, with his as- 
sailant kneeling cat-like upon his chest. The man was 
evidently fumbling for something, probably a weapon of 
the noiseless kind, for Jack could see his right hand work- 
ing in a hip pocket. With a headlong leap Jack fell upon 
the would-be assassin, and clutched him by the throat. 
At the same time a police whistle shrilled. 

But the man kneeling on Anstruther’s chest was not 
taken aback for an instant. With a quick upward motion 
of his body he pitched Jack clean over his head, and, roll- 


The Yellow Face 


178 

ing off Anstruther’s chest, darted like a snake into the 
gardens. By this time three policemen were upon the 
scene. 

“ No, I don’t think he is hurt much,” Jack explained, 
as Anstruther scrambled to his feet, and gazed wildly 
around him. “ No damage done, eh ? ” 

Anstruther explained that he was none the worse for his 
adventure. He seemed to be under the impression that 
he had been the victim of some loafer’s cupidity. He 
could give no description of his assailant ; indeed, he said 
that he had no idea now but to get away and keep an im- 
portant appointment. He tossed his card over to the 
police, and went coolly down the road. 

“ We can get that fellow all the same,” Jack said. “ He 
is in the gardens somewhere. Suppose you three men stand 
round the square while I go inside and drive him out. One 
of you lend me a lantern.” 

The quest was by no means a long one. At the fourth 
cast of the lantern Jack descried his man crouching down 
under a belt of laurels. He reached forward and dragged 
the fellow up by the neck. 

“ I am a bigger man than you are,” Jack said. “ Do 
you come quietly, or are you going to take it fighting ? ” 

By way of reply the man raised his hat ; his face was 
exposed. 

“lam not going to take it at all,” he said. “ You will 
be good enough to put the police off my scent and have a 
cab handy so that I can get away without being seen. We 
have met before, sir.” 

It was a fitting crown to a day of surprises. For the 
man who stood before Jack was the same Nostalgo he had 
conveyed in the guise of a dead body to Shannon Street 
police station. 


CHAPTER XXV 


ON THE TRACK 

The man standing there showed not the slightest trace 
of alarm. There was just the suggestion of a smile on his 
face, as if he felt confident of his position. Jack could even 
see that he was fingering a cigarette case, as if he were 
thinking more about tobacco than anything else. He ad- 
vanced a little nearer to his pursuer, and the suggestion of 
a smile broadened to a look of absolute amusement. 

“ It seems to me that we have met before,” he said, with 
an accent that left no doubt as to his nationality. “ But I 
have just reminded you of the fact. The question is, what 
are you going to do? ” 

“ Well, you are a very cool hand,” Jack replied. “ My 
obvious duty is to hand you over to the police for the at- 
tempted murder of Mr. Spencer Anstruther.” 

“Instead of which you are going to do nothing of the 
kind,” the stranger replied. “Besides, you are quite 
wrong. I am prepared to admit the assault on Mr. An- 
struther, but as to murdering him — nothing of the kind. 
Besides, you know perfectly well you are consumed with 
curiosity to know all about my mysterious self.” 

Jack smiled to himself despite the gravity of the situa- 
tion. The stranger had hit off his thoughts exactly. 

“You are naturally anxious to know,” he said, “what 
happened to me after you were good enough to escort my 
unconscious body to Shannon Street police station. I see 
you are a little dubious as to whether I am the right man 
or not ; but if you looked at me carefully, you would see 
there is no mistake whatever.” 

Jack advanced a few paces nearer the speaker, and sur- 
veyed him closely in the blinding light of the lantern. 

179 


i8o 


The Yellow Face 


There was no doubt whatever that this was one and the 
same Nostalgo. There was a certain mark in the shape 
of a crescent scar on his chin, the same scantiness of eye- 
brow, and the same peculiar droop of the lids. 

“lam quite satisfied that you are the same man,” Jack 
said. 

“ That’s all right,” the stranger cried, eagerly. “Of 
course, I know quite well that you are deeply interested 
in this Nostalgo mystery, and good fortune has placed 
you in the position to find out all about it. Get rid of 
those fellows, and call me a hansom. As a guarantee of 
good faith, here is my card. The address leaves a great 
deal to be desired, but I assure you my quarters are a great 
deal more comfortable than the locality would convey. If 
you have not yet dined, perhaps you would not mind par- 
taking of my bread and salt.” 

Jack did not hesitate a moment longer. It was, per- 
haps, playing it rather low down on the police, but it 
seemed almost a criminal folly to waste so golden an op- 
portunity as this. If the man had been given in custody 
for the murderous assault upon Spencer Anstruther, there 
would be long and tedious investigations, which would not 
only delay the solution of the trouble, but perhaps scare 
away others who were more or less party to the mystery. 
After all said and done, Anstruther was not a penny the 
worse for his adventure, and no harm could be done in 
defeating the so-called ends of justice. 

“ You stay where you are,” Jack said, “and I will see 
what I can do for you. The police are On three sides of 
the square, leaving this side open to me. It is only a 
matter of a little patience, and the thing is accomplished.” 

Jack emerged cautiously into the road and looked about 
him. So far as he could see the street was deserted, 
though he could hear the constables making signs to one 
another on the other three sides of the square. Whilst he 
was still debating in his mind what to do, an empty han- 
som crawled towards him. Jack ran back and signed to 
the driver not to stop. 

“You can earn a sovereign if you like,” he said. 


On the Track 


181 

“ Don’t ask any questions, but do exactly what I tell you. 
Turn back, go just to the corner of the square, and then 
return slowly ; when you are opposite the gates, pull up as 
if there was something the matter with your horse. Then 
a man will come out and jump into your cab. You are to 
drive him to the address which I am going to give you 
without asking any questions. Here is your sovereign, and 
now listen carefully to the address. That’s all.” 

Jack returned hurriedly to the gardens, at the same time 
whistling loudly as if he had need of assistance. It was 
not long before the three constables came swarming over 
the railings, guided to the right spot by the flash of Jack’s 
lantern. 

“ Now’s your time,” he whispered hurriedly. “ There 
is a hansom waiting for you by the gate, and the driver 
knows exactly what to do and where to take you. He is 
already paid his fare.” 

The man Nostalgo smiled and vanished. It was an easy 
matter to satisfy the police that their quarry had eluded 
Masefield, and that he was still hiding somewhere in the 
gardens. Jack left them to their search presently under 
the plea that he had no further time to waste. He walked 
as far as Albany Street, and there took a cab to Mare 
Street, Hackney. 

It was not a particularly desirable neighborhood, as 
the man Nostalgo had pointed out. The destination was 
a side street of great dingy houses, which a generation 
or two back had been inhabited by wealthy tradesmen and 
the like. Now the large houses had been cut up into small 
flats and tenements, and for the most part were occupied 
by artisans and the like. The gutter swarmed with 
children, disheveled-looking women stood gossiping on 
the door-steps; round a flaming gin palace a group of 
loafers had gathered. It seemed to Jack high time to 
dismiss his hansom, for e\idently vehicles of that kind 
were not frequent visitors to the street. More than one of 
the loafers lounging heavily against the greasy walls 
looked pointedly at Jack, but he was not the class of man 
to be tackled single-handed, and therefore he was allowed 


182 The Yellow Face 

to proceed unmolested to No. 14, where he asked for 
Mr. James Smith. 

A surly-looking porter, evidently considerably the worse 
for drink, replied that Smith lived on the fifth floor. 

“ Not that I have ever seen him,” he growled, pro- 
pitiated by Jack’s half-crown; “sort of secretive chap, 
only goes out after dark and all that sort of thing. 
Shouldn’t wonder if the police came and walked off with 
him any day ; but that’s no business of mine, so long as 
he pays his rent regularly and don’t give no trouble. 
Keeps a couple of servants, he does; but they ain’t Eng- 
lish, and we don’t have no truck with them.” 

Unenlightened by this fragment of a biography, Jack 
made his way up the greasy staircase. There must have 
been scores of families living in the self-same house, for 
Jack could hear the cries of children, and an occasional 
oath from some angry man. He came at length to the 
fifth floor, the outer door of which was closed, and on this 
he knocked. He knocked a third time before the door 
was cautiously opened, and the sallow, almond-eyed face 
of a Chinaman peered out. Apparently the Celestial was 
satisfied as to his visitor, for he merely bowed and stood 
aside so that Jack might enter. Then the door was closed 
again and locked. There was another door at the end of 
a dingy passage, the walls of which had not been papered 
for years ; but a passage through this revealed a different 
state of affairs entirely. 

It was idle to enquire by what magic this thing had been 
brought about, but here, in this home of wretchedness and 
desolation, was a luxurious and comfortable home. In 
what appeared to be the hall was a remarkably fine speci- 
men of Persian carpet. There were Moorish hangings, 
luxurious lounges and divans — the whole illuminated by 
a shaded lamp which depended from the ceiling. Jack 
could see other rooms beyond, quite as luxuriously fur- 
nished. In one of them a table had been laid out with a 
fair white cloth, and on the snowy damask appeared to be 
what was a perfectly appointed meal. 

Jack could see the shaded lights falling on the flowers 


On the Track 


183 

and silver, upon gold-necked bottles, and ruby wines in 
cut-glass decanters. A negro dressed like an English but- 
ler came silently from the room, carrying a silver coffee 
service in his hand. It was a fairy kind of dream, coming 
as it did upon the edge of stern reality. Jack would have 
been surprised had he not been long past that emotion. 
As it was, he allowed the Chinese servant to relieve him 
of his hat and coat, after which he was escorted to a small 
room at the back, where his queer host was smoking some- 
thing quite exceptional in the way of a cigar. 

“I thought you would come,” he said. It was only 
when he stood up under the full light of the lamps that 
Jack could see what a fine figure of a man he was. “ Sit 
down and try one of these cigars — dinner will not be ready 
for quite a quarter of an hour. You are rather surprised 
to find anything of this kind here, eh? ” 

“Well, rather,” Jack said drily; “you hardly expect 
eastern palaces in the slums. I won’t be vulgarly curious 
and ask why a man of your apparent means prefers to take 
up his quarters here, but what I want to know is this — 
how on earth did you manage to get all this luxury and 
refinement here without arousing the suspicions of your 
neighbors ? There are men — ay, and women, too — un- 
der the same roof who would murder you cheerfully, if 
only to get hold of your silver coffee service.” 

“ Oh, that’s explained easily enough,” Nostalgo cried. 
“ My two servants are very faithful to me ; they practically 
know no English, and when they go out they are dressed 
very very differently to what you see them now. As to 
the rest, we smuggled the things here a few at a time, and 
we did the papering and upholstering between us. As to 
why I choose to live here — ah, that is quite another matter.” 

The stranger finished with a stern abruptness that told 
Jack pretty plainly he was not expected to ask any further 
questions on that head. 

“You will know more about me presently,” he said. 
“ Meanwhile, I dare say you are curious to know what 
brought me lying apparently dead near Panton Square, 
and how my body disappeared from the police station. Of 


The Yellow Face 


184 

course, you suspect Anstruther of being at the bottom of 
the whole business; in fact, I presume Lord Barmouth 
told you all about that.” 

Here was another surprise, but Jack did not express it 
in words. He merely nodded, as if he took the whole 
thing for granted. 

“ We will let that pass,” he said. “But why did An- 
struther desire to have you put out of the way like that ? ’ * 

“Well, it was either Anstruther or myself, ” the stranger 
said coolly. “To give you some idea of the feelings I en- 
tertain towards Anstruther, I will ask you to kindly look 
at that craotint over the mantelpiece. You may not be- 
lieve it, but that picture represents me before I came under 
the baneful influence of the man we are discussing. Will 
you please look at it carefully? ” 

It was barely possible to recognize in those handsome 
features the almost repulsive ugliness of Nostalgo. Per- 
haps he read something of this passing through Jack’s 
mind, for he smiled with exceeding bitterness. 

“Yes, I don’t think I need much justification. You 
know all about that business in Mexico, but Lord Bar- 
mouth was not the only victim. I also was left penniless 
and mutilated, and I swore that if ever fortune favored 
me, I would be even with Anstruther before I died. For- 
tune has favored me, and I am here with one set purpose 
before me.” 

“ To kill Spencer Anstruther,” Jack cried. 

“Oh, dear, no,” Nostalgo said ; “ do you suppose that 
I can think of no more terrible revenge than that ? When 
you saw me holding that scoundrel to-night I had quite 
another purpose in my mind. If everything had gone well 
with me, London would have been startled to-morrow to 
hear of the strange disappearance of Spencer Anstruther. 
But you were good enough to prevent me, and I cannot 
blame you for that. But I am talking about myself, 
though you would like to hear more of other matters. I 
promised to tell you how I got away from Shannon Street 
police station. I expect my case puzzled the doctor, did 
it not ? ” 


On the Track 185 

“ You puzzled him exceedingly,” Jack said. “ How 
did you manage it ? ” 

“ I was shot in a peculiar manner, and with a peculiar 
weapon,” Nostalgo explained. “The whole device was 
an invention of Anstruther’s — in fact, I saw it in operation 
in Mexico. It is a kind of air gun arrangement that pro- 
pels a sort of poisoned bullet encased in celluloid. The 
bullet penetrates a part not necessarily vital and dissolves 
there. There is practically no wound, the virulent poison 
in the bullet spreads all over the system and speedily does 
its work. But in my instance the shots fired were not 
fatal, for the simple reason that I am wearing a thin coat 
of highly- tempered chain mail.” 

“But the doctor did not notice that,” Jack exclaimed. 

Nostalgo made no reply for a moment ; he seemed to be 
thinking about something else. His varying moods had 
not been lost upon Jack. He was stern and silent, then 
again happy and cheerful, and once more grim and sar- 
donic. If he did not care to speak now, Jack had no de- 
sire to press him. He felt quite sure that the stranger 
had taken a liking to him, or he would not be enjoying 
his present novel situation. Nostalgo broke the silence 
at length as if he had suddenly realized that he was not 
alone. 

“ You have not traveled much, I presume ? ” he asked. 

“ No,” Jack replied. “Only the usual Continental 
trips and all that kind of thing. Mine has been a very 
prosaic life up to now, and I have never found myself in 
the heart of a great adventure before. Now it seems to 
me as if I were going to have enough mystery to last me 
forever.” 

“Ah, as Shakespeare says, ‘There are more things in 
heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.’ 
Had you lived my life, and knew the world as I know it, 
you would not be astonished at anything. Probably if 
you had read what I have told you in a novel, of the sen- 
sational kind, you would have pitched the book aside with 
a laugh of contempt. And now, confess it, have you ever 
heard before of a decadent modern man walking about in 


i86 


The Yellow Face 


a mail shirt and being plugged by mysterious bullets, and 
all this in the streets of London ? ” 

“ Well, I confess that it does seem a little strange and 
outlandish,” Jack admitted. “ But when I come to think 
of it, and when I look at you, I can no longer hesitate. 
Some men are born for picturesqueness and adventure, and 
you are one of them. But all the same the doctor was ut- 
terly deceived.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


SERENA AGAIN 

Nostalgo smiled and shook his head. The doctor had 
not made an examination of him at all ; and he explained 
he had simply given him a cursory glance and pronounced 
that the whole thing had been fatal. No doubt a thorough 
examination would have taken place later on, only that 
the victim had returned to his senses, and, having his own 
reasons for secrecy, had escaped by means of the overhead 
light in the mortuary. 

“There you have the whole thing in a nutshell,” he 
concluded. “ It was fortunate for me that I knew exactly 
how to get away, for the simple reason that 1 had been 
keeping a close eye upon Anstruther’s movements, and 
knew all about that hiding place in Montrose Place. To 
a certain extent I made my escape through Montrose 
Place. There is only one thing I find that is difficult of 
explanation. Now I know for a fact that Anstruther was 
otherwise engaged on the night of that murderous attack 
upon me. Who, then, was it who fired the bullet?” 

“I think it is just possible I can enlighten you there,” 
Jack said. “ Did you ever chance to hear of a man called 
Pad ini ? ” 

The name conveyed nothing apparently to Nostalgo, 
who rose at the same moment and suggested that dinner 
was possibly ready. It was a well-served meal, cold for 
the most part, Nostalgo explaining that anything in the 
way of elaborate cookery had for obvious reasons to be 
done off the premises. It was possible to talk freely be- 
fore the servants, who seemed to be entirely in their 
master’s confidence. 

“Tell me about this Padini whose name you mentioned 
187 


i88 


The Yellow Face 


just now,” the host said. “ So far as I know, I have 
never heard the name before. ' ’ 

“That is exceedingly likely, considering that Padini is 
only one of the many aliases. The man I mentioned is 
an exceedingly fine violinist — clean shaven and artistic- 
looking, and perhaps just a little effeminate. On the stage 
he looks rather boyish, but in private life it is his whim 
to assume a moustache closely resembling that of the 
German Emperor. I know this as a fact, because I have 
met him wearing his moustache at the house of a man 
called Carrington — a rich bachelor banker who has a very 
elaborate establishment in Piccadilly.” 

A heavy scowl crossed the face of Nostalgo. 

“So you know that sorry blackguard, do you?” he 
asked. “ Upon my word, Mr. Masefield, you seem to have 
mixed up with a rare lot of scoundrels.” 

Jack was politely incredulous ; he had never heard any- 
thing to the detriment of Mr. Carrington, who was partner 
in a well-known City bank. Still, he remembered now 
that he had heard Carrington’s name mentioned by An- 
struther that time he was hiding in Montrose Place with 
Rigby. 

“ Oh, I am perfectly certain of my facts,” Nostalgo 
cried. “It may be news to you, but Carrington’s bank 
is on the verge of collapse. I know that, because they 
have twenty thousand pounds of mine in their hands. I 
was acquainted with Carrington before I went to Mexico, 
and as good fortune favored me, I sent a great deal of 
my earnings to Carrington for investment. When I 
came home I called upon him one night and explained 
my altered appearance. He appeared to be fairly satisfied 
till I asked for my securities. Then the rascal showed 
himself in his true colors. He pretended to believe that 
I was an impudent impostor ; he laughed my strange story 
to scorn, and refused to part with anything until I could 
prove my identity beyond question. He knew perfectly 
well that at the time I could do nothing of the sort, and 
there the matter stands for the present. I suppose that 
Carrington is a friend of Anstruther’s ? ” 


Serena Again 189 

Jack explained that Anstruther and Carrington were 
dining together at the former’s club at that self-same 
moment. Nostalgo nodded, as if the information was not 
displeasing to him. 

“Very good,” he cried. “Everything is going our 
way now. I will get you to accompany me on a little 
expedition presently. And as to this man you call Padini, 
I think I have a pretty good notion of his real identity. 
And now take some more of that wine, and let us discuss 
matters generally, apart from this wretched business. 
Let me try and make you forget what a physical wreck 
I am.” 

A more entertaining companion Jack could not have 
wished for. His host seemed to have been everywhere 
and seen everything; he was a thorough citizen of the 
world, and a charming companion to boot. Jack was 
astonished to look up presently and see that it was already 
past eleven o’clock. Nostalgo followed his glance and 
smiled. He rang the bell and ordered coffee to be served 
at once. 

“Just one more cigar and a liquor,” he suggested, 
“and then we must be off. Meanwhile, there are one or 
two things I must do in regard to my personal appearance. 
Like the modern plain young woman, I am compelled 
occasionally to resort to a beauty doctor. It is a case of 
where Nature fails Art steps in.” 

So saying, Nostalgo passed the cigar box across the 
table and sauntered from the room. It was some half- 
hour before he returned, and when he did so he was 
changed almost beyond recognition. At the same time, 
the almost hideous ugliness had only given way to another 
form of repulsive feature. Nostalgo smiled sadly as he 
seemed to follow Jack’s thoughts. 

“ It is only a change after all,” he said ; “for change 
is sometimes necessary. If you have quite finished, we 
are going to walk down as far as St. James’s Street, where 
I will get you to go into Anstruther’s club, the Salisbury, 
and ascertain if he and Carrington are still there. You 
can easily make an excuse to do that.” 


190 


The Yellow Face 


“As it happens, there is no occasion to do anything of 
the kind,” Jack said. “I am a member of the Salisbury 
Club. I will go into the dining-room and see if those 
men are still there ; and if they have already gone, I will 
try and ascertain where. Come along.” 

The Salisbury Club was reached at length, and Jack 
entered, followed by his companion. There was no reason 
why the latter should not come into the club, Jack urged. 
With his hat pulled down over his eyes nobody would 
recognize him or note anything peculiar in his appearance. 

The club was fairly crowded by this time, for the 
theatres had begun to empty, and members were trooping 
in the direction of the smoking and card rooms. The 
dining-room was still comparatively full, for though dinner 
was practically a thing of the past, a great many suppers 
had already been served. As Jack glanced carelessly 
about the room, he noticed Anstruther and Carrington 
seated at a table at the top. There was a third man with 
them, who had apparently just come in, for his opera cape 
was still about his shoulders. Jack touched his companion 
on the arm. 

“There our men are,” he whispered, “and judging 
from the amount of wine upon the table, I should think 
there they are likely to stay. We are fortunate, too, in 
another direction. Please take note of that man in the 
opera cape — that is the man Padini. Perhaps you can 
tell me if you have ever seen him before.” 

Nostalgo gave a queer and dry chuckle, and Jack 
could see that his eyes were burning under the edge of 
his hat. 

“ You are quite right about our being in luck,” he said 
hoarsely. “ So you want to know if I am acquainted with 
the little man in the opera cape. I know the scoundrel 
perfectly. It seems to me that all the scores I have to 
pay are going to be wiped off in London. Now I think 
we will get on our way.” 

Nostalgo strode away as if he had quite made up his 
mind what to do. Once outside, he turned off in the 
direction of Piccadilly, walking so rapidly that Jack had 


Serena Again 191 

some considerable difficulty in keeping up with him. The 
man had evidently something on his mind, for he was 
muttering to himself as if he had entirely forgotten his 
companion. He came out of his brown study presently, 
and laughed a laugh of grim amusement. 

“I am a little mad at times,” he said, in explanation 
of his queer conduct; “but you must not mind that. 
You have behaved exceedingly well to me, and I am 
taking you entirely into my confidence. You asked me 
just now if I knew Padini. I explained to you that I 
knew him very well indeed, but not under that name. 
He used to be with Anstruther all the time that the latter 
was in Mexico. Not that he is the class of man to care 
much for the rough life we led out there, because he is 
physically a great coward, though his cunning and craft 
are equal to those of his master. We knew him out 
there for a very skilled performer on the violin, but I 
never expected that he would blossom out into a leading 
platform artist. I should have thought that the fellow 
was too lazy and too casual to tie himself down to a 
settled programme. But I dare say it is all part of some 
scheme of Anstruther’s.” 

“That I am absolutely certain about,” Jack said. 
“ Seeing that you have been so candid with me, I will be 
equally candid with you, and tell you something very 
strange. It has to do with Padini and his violin.” 

Jack proceeded to explain at length the apparently 
strange coincidence of the items on Padini* s concert pro- 
gramme and their simultaneous playing in Anstruther’s 
study. It was a somewhat complicated story, and Nos- 
talgo did not quite take it in at first. When he thoroughly 
grasped the situation, he was grimly pleased to pay a high 
compliment to Anstruther’s ingenuity. 

“ I think I can grasp the meaning of it,” he said. “If 
Anstruther ever found himself in a tight corner — and he is 
very likely to before long — he has a magnificent alibi. 
But here we are; just wait till I get my key out.” 

To Jack’s great surprise Nostalgo paused before the front 
door of Carrington’s chambers, and proceeded to fit the 


192 


The Yellow Face 


key in the latch as if he were the master of the premises. 
Very coolly he pushed the door back and bade Jack 
enter. 

‘‘But this is something like burglary,” the latter pro- 
tested. 

“Burglary or not, we are going in all the same,” Nos- 
talgo growled. “You will see presently something that 
will surprise you. But stop — surely there is some one 
coming down the hall.” 

The hall light was a very dim one, so that it was impos- 
sible for the moment to determine the identity of the 
woman who came down the stairway towards them. She 
carried in her hand a candle, which had the effect of keep- 
ing her face half in shadow. It was evident that the 
woman had heard the key in the door, and had come down 
to see if her master required anything. 

Satisfied that she was mistaken, she set the candle down 
on the table. Her features were quite plain now — the sad 
yet defiant face of Serena. A grasp like a vice was laid 
on Jack’s arm, and his companion’s voice whispered 
hoarsely in his ear. 

“Great heaven!” Nostalgo said. “And she is here. 
Oh, the villainy of it, the villainy of it ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


IN THE SMOKING-ROOM 

The woman looked about her as if half expecting to see 
somebody 'there who had come with evil intent. Jack 
could not fail to notice the extreme nervousness and agita- 
tion of her face. She was no longer quiet and subdued, 
as he had been accustomed to see her in Panton Square ; 
she seemed as if some force had dragged her there against 
her will. She advanced towards the table, and, taking up 
a hat and coat lying there, proceeded to put them on as if 
she had finished her task whatever it was. If anything 
had frightened her, it was not, at any rate, the suggestion 
of burglars, for there was nothing of physical fear to be 
detected about her. 

So far as Jack could discern, his companion appeared to 
be equally disconcerted. But there would be plenty of 
time presently to learn what Nostalgo knew about Serena. 
Events were moving rapidly now, and Jack felt that he 
would have plenty to tell Rigby later on. They stood 
aside till Serena had left the house, making sure that the 
latch was down, and that no one could enter the premises 
without a key. Jack turned to Nostalgo with an interroga- 
tive glance. 

“The more we go into this thing," he said, “the more 
do we find one mystery piled upon another. Do you know 
that unfortunate lady ? ’ ’ 

“If you do not mind, I would much rather you did 
not press that question," Nostalgo said, coldly. “I am 
going to help you all I can ; I am going to do everything 
in my power both for your sake and mine ; but there are 
some things which will not bear discussion, and this is one 
of them. ’ ’ 


*93 


The Yellow Face 


194 

Jack turned away, feeling just a little hurt and disap- 
pointed. He would have found it difficult to say why, 
but he had taken a strange liking to the man by his side, 
perhaps because the man was suffering more from terrible 
misfortune than from his own imprudence. 

“We will let it stand over for the present,” he said, 
“ but to be more candid than you are, I am greatly inter- 
ested in that poor woman. I have known her for a long 
time now, and, as a novelist, I am bound to say that she 
greatly fascinates me. She always strikes me as a woman 
who has been tamed — she is so like a performing lion or 
tiger, if you will permit me the simile.” 

‘ * I think I know what you mean, ’ ’ Nostalgo said. ‘ ‘ The 
class of animal you speak of paces restlessly about its cage, 
a picture of moody discontent and more or less physical 
fear. And then the time comes when all the old savage 
instincts burst forth, and years of cruel treatment are 
avenged in the course of a moment.” 

“And so it would be with Serena,” Jack said. “ I have 
seen her cower and tremble before her master ; I have seen 
her hand him a knife in the humblest possible fashion. 
And then I have seen her hands clench on the handle, and 
a gleam come into her eyes — on more than one occasion I 
have half expected to see her lean over and cut her master’s 
throat from ear to ear. After this, perhaps, you may be 
disposed to say more on the subject? ” 

“ We have never met, we have never been introduced,” 
Nostalgo explained ; “ but I know who she is and all about 
her just the same. Do not press me more at present; the 
secret is not entirely my own. I can only tell you this : it 
was a great shock to me to meet that unfortunate lady to- 
night. But perhaps you know who she is ? ” 

“ I know perfectly well who she is,” Jack said, “ though 
the knowledge has come to me quite recently. Up to a 
day or two ago I regarded her in the prosaic light of An- 
struther’s housekeeper. She has always interested me, 
because she has always seemed to me to be a kind of wild 
animal who has been cleverly tamed. I have seen her like 
a tiger ready to spring ; I have seen the lurking demon 


In the Smoking-Room 195 

of passion in her eyes, as if she could destroy Anstruther 
and rejoice in the deed. And then a word from him or a 
glance, and she has cowered as timidly as the wife of the 
veriest bully in the world.” 

“But that isn’t telling me who she is,” Nostalgo said, 
impatiently. 

“Well, she is Lady Barmouth’s sister, to begin with,” 
Jack said. “Now, perhaps, you may be inclined to be 
more communicative.” 

Nostalgo shook his head in a sorrowful manner, and 
proceeded .0 lead the way up-stairs. It was not lost upon 
Jack that his companion seemed to know his way about 
the house just as one would who had lived there for some 
time. He even seemed to know where to lay his hand 
upon each electric switch ; in fact, his familiarity with the 
surroundings was apparent to the meanest understanding. 

“One more word before we leave the subject,” Jack 
said. “ I showed you to-night the man who calls himself 
Padini. You recognized him as a man whom you had 
known in Mexico, and you left me to understand that he 
was as great a scoundrel as Anstruther, only that he lacked 
the necessary courage to carry his schemes into effect. 
Would it surprise you to know that this I’adini is the hus- 
band of the poor woman who has just gone out ? ” 

Nostalgo shook his head with the air of a man who is not 
hearing anything for the first time. As he had intimated 
before, the secret was not his own, and he showed no in- 
clination to go into the matter now. He led the way to 
the first landing, from which the living-rooms branched 
off. Here was the fine, spacious hall where Jack had found 
himself on the night he had met Rigby there ; the big 
ferns and palms were still scattered about ; the evidences 
of luxury were plain. Only a rich man could have occu- 
pied so fine a suite of apartments. Nostalgo smiled as all 
these objects of art and luxury met his eye. 

“All is not gold that glitters,” he said; “in fact, 
nothing that glitters is gold. All this kind of thing would 
be calculated to impress any client who came along, but 
the British public is getting to understand the value of 


The Yellow Face 


196 

outside show. Let me see — this used to be the drawing- 
room in the old days, when ” 

Nostalgo flicked up the lights, and there, bathed 
brilliantly by the flashing rays, was a room that would not 
have disgraced a palace. Carrington was a man of taste 
and feeling ; his pictures were good, and his china would 
have fetched much money at Christie’s. The lights were 
down again, and Nostalgo walked away in the direction 
of the dining-room. He might have been some con- 
temptuous servant displaying his master’s treasures to the 
admiring eye of a colleague. Everywhere the foot sank 
deeply into velvety carpets. Many fine sets of armor 
graced the corridor. There were one or two pictures of 
price here, also ; a Corot, a dainty little Meissonier, a 
sketch or two from the brush of same other modern 
painters. Deeply interested as he was in the adventure, 
Jack did not fail to note and do justice to Carrington’s 
taste. 

“ A whited sepulchre,” Nostalgo murmured. “ It is a 
poor jewel, after all, that lives in this perfect setting. 
Now, here is the dining-room. What do you think of it — 
old oak and old blue china with Flemish pictures of the 
best school? Elegant, is it not? You need not wonder 
why the women run after Carrington. But we will give 
them something to talk about presently.” 

With the assured step of one who knows every inch of 
the way, Nostalgo moved on to a small apartment behind 
the dining-room. This was fitted in the form of a smok- 
ing-room, with deep and cozy armchairs and comfortable 
divans against the Moorish walls. The whole thing was 
Moorish, from the decorations on the walls and the 
wonderful brass lamps depending from the painted ceiling. 
At the far end of the room were two double stained glass 
doors leading into a conservatory. The warmth here was 
grateful, and seemed to touch the senses drowsily. As to 
the rest, the conservatory was filled with masses of grace- 
ful feathery palms and ferns, beyond which was tier upon 
tier of red geraniums. The whole effect was wonderfully 
pleasing and artistic, and Jack did not hesitate to say so. 


In the Smoking-Room 197 

Nostalgo was not so enthusiastic. 

“ I wasn’t thinking so much about that,” he said drily. - 
“ I was regarding this little garden more in the light of a 
hiding place. You and I are going to play the eaves- 
dropper, my friend. It is not a congenial occupation, I 
know ; but there is precious little of anything congenial 
about this business. Carrington will be here presently, 
and probably Anstruther will accompany him.” 

“You are a bit of a detective in your way,” Jack 
smiled. 

“The conclusion is only what any one would call obvi- 
ous,” Nostalgo replied. “In the first place, all the 
servants have gone to bed, or that poor woman whom we 
saw down-stairs would not have been so careful to see that 
the door could not be opened without a latch-key. On the 
table behind you is a big silver salver with two glasses, a 
couple of syphons of soda-water, and a spirit-stand. 
What other conclusion do you come to than that Carring- 
ton is returning presently, and is bringing a friend with 
him? ” 

“ I quite follow you,” Jack said, “ but there is one thing 
I don’t understand. How is it that you can find your way 
about this house in so familiar a manner? ” 

“Ah, that is not so obvious,” Nostalgo replied. “And 
yet the explanation is perfectly simple. Before I went to 
Mexico I was a friend of Carrington’s. In those days his 
father was still alive, and he had not succeeded to so large 
a share of the business. As a matter of fact, Carrington 
and myself lived here together. He frequently discussed 
with me the improvements he would make here when once 
he was in a position to do so. The place where we are 
standing now used to be my dressing-room.” 

It seemed to Jack that Carrington must have been a cool 
hand indeed, and he suggested something of this to 
Nostalgo. 

“ Cool with the courage of despair,” the latter said. 

“ The night I came home and called on Carrington here, 

I thought he would have had a fit of apoplexy. Dis- 
figured as I am, I am certain that he recognized me, but 


The Yellow Face 


198 

he was not slow to take advantage of my misfortunes. 
Directly he had recovered himself he became painfully 
polite, though he refused to acknowledge me as his 
quondam friend. You can quite see the point of that — so 
long as I could not prove my identity, he was able to keep 
me out of my property. But we have already discussed 
that point. And now you know why I am so familiar with 
the house, and how it comes about that I have a latch-key 
to fit the front door.” 

Nostalgo was apparently prepared to say more, only his 
quick hearing detected a suspicious sound below. He 
strode swiftly across the room, and switched out the light 
that had illuminated the room and the conservatory. It 
was an easy matter to find the hiding place amidst that 
tangle of ferns and flowers, and the two had hardly done 
so before the smoking-room door opened and Carrington 
came in, closely followed by Anstruther and Padini. The 
latter seemed to be terribly put out about something, for 
he flung his hat and coat upon the floor and dropped into 
a chair with an attitude of defiance. 

“It is all very well for you,” he exclaimed heatedly. 
“We do all the work and take all the risks, and you walk 
off with the profit. I tell you it is absolutely dangerous 
to work a scheme like ours from the Great Metropolitan 
Hotel.” 

There was a sneer on Anstruther’s face as he helped 
himself to a cigarette and poured out a carefully-moderated 
dose of whiskey and soda. 

“You little rascal,” he said. He had the air of a man 
who, having tamed lions, was now contemptuously engaged 
in subduing less noble animals. “If you talk to me like 
this I will let you down altogether. You cannot injure 
me, but I can ruin you, body and soul. Go to your kennel, 
you hound.” 

Padini cowered before the flashing anger in Anstruther’s 
eyes, and he muttered something to himself that might 
have been an apology ; but the "listeners were a little too 
far away to hear. 

“ It is all very well for you, ” Padini whimpered. “ You 


i 9 9 


In the Smoking-Room 

* 

can call me a coward if you like — I am. It is not like you 
to run any risks at all. So long as I am at the Great 
Metropolitan Hotel, so sure is there danger.” 

‘‘Send him off about his business,” Carrington growled. 
“Why did you allow him to follow us here at all? He 
ought to have been in his own room by this time carrying 
on his share of the programme.” 

“ Well, give me a programme,” Padini said, with some 
show of spirit. “ How am I to know what Anstruther 
wants unless he tells me beforehand ? Is it to be nothing 
but Chopin to-night ? ” 

In the same way that one humors a spoiled child, 
Anstruther took a note-book from his pocket and jotted a 
few names upon it. 

“ I think that will about do,” he said. “ Start with the 
‘Grand Polonaise,’ and take the ‘Fantasie in F’ after- 
wards ; then stick steadily to the programme I have 
marked on that sheet of paper.” 

Padini rose obediently enough now, and donned his hat 
and coat. He would have helped himself to a small 
modicum of refreshment, only Anstruther put him sternly 
aside. 

“ None of that,” he said, “ and not one spot of anything 
till you have finished your night’s work. We know what 
you are when you start. Now go at once.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE LAMP GOES OUT 

Meanwhile, Carrington had been pacing up and down 
the room, obviously troubled and ill at ease. Anstruther 
watched him with a gleam of malicious amusement in his 
dark eyes. This strong man liked to feel that he had 
everybody in his power ; it was good to him to know that 
he could move others as the man behind the curtain moves 
the puppets in a marionette show. It was not particularly 
that Anstruther cared for crime for its own sake, but he 
loved to be subtle and mysterious ; it was a joy to him to 
get the better of his fellow creatures. Had Carrington but 
known it, the major part of the trouble which was racking 
his mind now had been brought about by the very man to 
whom he turned most readily in the hour of his misfortunes. 
He poured himself out a liberal dose of whiskey, and gulped 
it down without the formality of adding anything to it. 
He flung himself angrily into a chair. 

“ Now that that little ape is gone we can discuss my 
affairs,” he said. “My dear Anstruther, I am the most 
desperate man in England to-night.” 

“I think I have heard that remark somewhere before,” 
Anstruther said cynically. “ Most people talk like that 
when they owe twopence-ha’ penny they can’t manage to 
pay. But tell me, are your affairs in such a state as that? ” 

“They could not possibly be worse,” Carrington said, 
moodily. “Since my father died, practically all the 
financial side of the business has been left to me. Like 
the fool that I am, I was not content with the handsome 
profit that the concern was bringing in. I started specu- 
lating for myself, and I was unlucky from the start. I lost 
my head and plunged desperately, but that is not the worst 
of it. Not only is all the property at the bank mortgaged 
to its full value, but I have taken and disposed of securities 
200 


201 


The Lamp Goes Out 

belonging to clients. Every morning I go down to the 
bank I do so with my heart in my mouth. It only needs 
the smallest spark to fire the whole mine. I should not be 
surprised to find myself in jail to-morrow night. Now, 
you are a clever man, quite the cleverest man I have ever 
met — can you show me any way out of the difficulty?” 

“My dear fellow,” Anstruther said presently, “clever 
men can do most things, but there is one thing in which 
they generally fail. They can't command money just 
when they want it. As you are perfectly well aware, I am 
as desperately hard up as you are yourself. If you could 
give me two or three days ” 

“ But something must be done within the next eight and 
forty hours ! ” Carrington exclaimed. “ For instance, 
there is that confounded affair at Lady Barmouth’s.” 

“But how does that concern you?” Anstruther asked. 

“ I was just coming to that. You see, we have a great 
many clients — ladies — who keep their jewels with us. 
Take the case of the Duchess of Plymouth, for instance, 
and Admiral Scott’s widow. But those are only a few of 
many. Now I know perfectly well that all these ladies 
will be round the day after to-morrow to obtain their 
jewels, for the purpose of wearing them at Lady Bar- 
mouth’s masked ball. Not to put too fine a point upon it, 
they won’t get their jewels, because they are not there.” 

“ Mortgaged or sold ? ” Anstruther asked, curtly. 

“ Mortgaged to the utmost penny. You can imagine 
my feelings every time the door of my private office is 
opened and I am told that a client wishes to see me. I 
cannot for the life of me see any way out of it. Nothing 
less than a quarter of a million of money would set me on 
my feet again.” 

Anstruther smoked thoughtfully, his brows knitted into 
a frown. It was some time before he spoke, Carrington 
watching him with sickening anxiety. There was some- 
thing pathetic in his belief in Anstruther’s ability to get 
him out of this terrible position. 

“There are more ways of doing it than one,” An- 
struther said presently. “ In this instance we can take a 


202 


The Yellow Face 


hint from the daily papers. Supposing that the bank was 
mysteriously robbed — the safes forced open and all that 
kind of thing? ” 

“ Yes, and the whole thing exposed in twenty minutes,” 
Carrington said, bitterly. “The robbing and gagging of 
cashiers has been slightly overdone lately. I can’t call a 
single case to mind in which the scheme has not fallen to 
the ground. Take the case of those stolen banknotes, for 
instance. And even supposing that nothing could be 
proved against one, there is always a large section of the 
public ready to regard the trouble as nothing more than a 
mere swindle. An affair like that would be the finishing 
touch; it would ruin the bank’s business utterly.” 

“And incidentally save your skin,” said Anstruther, 
significantly. “Oh, no ; this is going to be a much more 
artistic affair than that. If you could get me a plan of the 
bank premises, including the safes and the cellars and all 
that kind of thing, I believe I could hit upon a scheme 
ingenious enough to deceive the police and gain you the 
sympathy of the British public.” 

Carrington shook his head wearily. He had expected 
something much more brilliant and original from An- 
struther than this. 

“The plan you want would take days to prepare,” he 
said, “ to say nothing of the fact ” 

Carrington jumped to his feet joyfully. His moody 
face cleared, and something like a smile shone on his 
features. 

“What a fool I am ! ” he cried. “Why, I have the 
very thing on the premises ; in fact, I have two copies. 
It was only a few months ago that the bank premises were 
thoroughly restored and a fresh set of strong rooms added. 
I feel positively certain that in my safe here I have two 
sets of tracings of the architect’s plans. I’ll get them for 
you. Only I hope you won’t make the same blunder over 
this business as you did at the affair of the man whom we 
will call Nostalgo Seymour.” 

Anstruther laughed unpleasantly. Jack’s companion, 
listening intently from his hiding place amongst the ferns, 


The Lamp Goes Out 203 

gripped his companion by the arm. “ That’s me,” he 
whispered, with almost a suppressed chuckle. “Iam the 
man they speak of as Nostalgo Seymour. ’ * 

Jack pressed the arm of his fellow conspirator by way 
of acknowledgment. He was far too interested in what 
was going on inside the brilliantly-lighted room to care to 
talk ; indeed, he had forgotten the presence of his com- 
rade altogether. He could see that Anstruther had risen 
to his feet and was pacing the room, evidently nettled by 
Carrington’s remark. 

“ If you want to be friends, don’t mention that matter 
to me again,” he said. “It is the one failure of my life. 
To get Seymour out of the way is imperative. I trusted 
the matter to Padini, and he failed me.” 

“ I would have trusted nothing to Padini,” Carrington 
said. 

“Oh, yes, you would,” Anstruther growled. “Espe- 
cially if he had done so many artistic jobs in the same line 
for you. But I did not know, unfortunately, till too late, 
that the little rascal has been drinking more lately than 
was good for him. The fact is, he has lost his nerve. 
And yet he might have felt himself justified in believing 
that his mission had been attended with complete suc- 
cess — but go and get your plans. I will have a good look 
at them now, and I will call to see you to-morrow at the 
bank as if I came on business, and you shall show me all 
over the premises. It will be surprising, indeed, if I can- 
not show you some safe way out of the present difficulty.” 

As Carrington went off jingling a bunch of keys in his 
hand, Jack could feel the man whom we will now call 
Seymour fairly trembling with excitement. It seemed 
more than once as if he was bent on darting from his 
hiding place and confronting the two scoundrels in the 
inner room. But evidently he was placing great restraint 
upon himself, for he turned to Jack and patted him reas- 
suringly on the shoulder. At the same instant, Carrington 
returned with a large roll of tracing paper in his hand. 
There was an agitation about him scarcely warranted by 
the circumstances of the case. It was as if he had seen 


204 


The Yellow Face 


something dreadful during his brief absence. Anstruther 
looked at him with some scorn. 

“What a face! ” he growled. “If you go down to 
the bank looking like that you will have a run on the 
concern in half an hour. No ghosts about here, I sup- 
pose ? ” 

“It isn’t that,” Carrington said hoarsely; “but it is 
something I have found in the corridor. It was lying on 
the floor close by the dining-room door. Tell me, have 
you ever seen it before ? ’ ’ 

With a shaking hand Carrington laid a small silver- 
mounted moleskin tobacco pouch on the table. At the 
same moment Jack noticed that his companion had given 
a great start. There was no need for Jack to be told that 
the tobacco pouch in question was Seymour’s property, 
and had been dropped by him accidentally a little time 
before. 

“ Why, you don’t mean to say this belongs to Sey- 
mour,” Anstruther cried, and there was a real anxiety in 
his voice. “Yes, you are quite correct; I distinctly re- 
member Seymour buying this peculiar pattern of filigree 
silver. Now you see why I wanted to get that fellow out 
of the way. I have tried to believe that he was dead and 
gone, but not only is it quite evident that he is very much 
alive, but also it is equally plain that he has been here to- 
night.” 

Carrington fairly shook as he hoarsely muttered his 
opinion that Anstruther was right. He glanced timidly 
about him, as if expecting to meet the face of Seymour ; 
he stepped towards the conservatory, as if suspicious that 
the crimson flowers were hiding his enemy there. Then 
he gave a shaky half-laugh at his own fears. 

“ My nerves are all rags to-night,” he said. “ Positively 
I imagined that I could see that dreadful scarred face of 
Seymour glaring at me from behind the bank of geraniums. 
Call me a coward if you like, but I must really ask you to 
turn up the light in the conservatory. I dare not do it 
myself.” 

Something like a curse broke from the rigid figure by 


205 


The Lamp Goes Out 

Jack’s side. From overhead there dangled an electric 
light swinging on a long, pliable flex. An instant later, 
and there would come a brilliant blaze of light if An- 
struther could have reached the switch towards which he 
was contemptuously strolling. An instant later, and the 
eavesdroppers would have been discovered ; but Seymour 
rose grandly to the situation. With one bound he was 
across the floor of the conservatory, and literally tore the 
switch from its place. Instantly the fuses connected with 
the two rooms short-circuited, and the brilliant light of 
the inner room was swallowed up in the throat of a great 
velvety darkness. The thing was so swift, so clever, and 
so unexpected, that Jack could only gasp. He was con- 
scious of the fact that Seymour had left his side, but only 
for a moment. 

“ Confound the light ! ” Carrington cried. “ Give me 
a match, and I’ll light the lamps. This is the second time 
lately the same thing has happened.” 

The feeble spurt of a vesta made a tiny blue flame, but 
it was sufficient to show Carrington the position of two 
silver lamps. He lighted one of these and then the other, 
and placed them on the table. As he did so his face grew 
white again, his tongue began to stammer. 

“ The plans,” he gasped. “ Surely I put two on the 
table ? Where is the other ? ” 

“ The other,” Jack’s companion whispered, with a 
hoarse chuckle of triumph, “ is quite safe in my breast 
pocket.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE SILVER LAMP 

The wonderful coolness and audacity of his companion 
filled Jack with admiration. He had forgotten for the 
moment that there was any danger at all. It seemed to 
him to be a good thing to have so adroit and cunning a 
colleague to work with. The whole thing had been so 
wonderfully swift; hardly a moment seemed to have 
elapsed between the extinguishing of the light and the re- 
turn of Seymour with the duplicate of the plan safely in 
his pocket. 

What he proposed to do next Jack could not guess for 
the moment, neither did he much care. At the same time, 
he felt quite convinced of the fact that Seymour had some 
deep scheme in his mind. Jack’s spirits rose in quite an 
unaccountable way. He warmly congratulated himself on 
the fact that he had found Seymour and brought him into 
the campaign against Anstruther. The danger was by no 
means over yet, as Seymour must have recognized; but 
that did not seem to trouble him much, for he was shaking 
now with suppressed mirth, and was evidently enjoying the 
situation as one does a screaming farce from a comfortable 
place in the stalls. 

Jack was about to whisper something of this to his com- 
panion, when the latter checked him with a touch on the 
arm. Inside the room, in the comparatively moderated 
light of the lamps, Jack could see Carrington fussing about 
uneasily. 

“I tell you that there were two plans,” he muttered. 
“I am absolutely certain there was a duplicate. If you 
have played any kind of trick upon me I hope you will 
confess it at once.” 

“Trick be hanged,” Anstruther cried contemptuously. 
“ Do you suppose that I indulge in practical joking ? I 
206 


The Silver Lamp 207 

say you have made a mistake; the duplicate plan is some- 
where else.” 

‘‘And I am equally certain that it was with those 
papers,” Carrington blustered. “ They were lying side by 
side a minute ago. And now one of them is gone, and you 
want me to believe that it has been spirited away by unseen 
hands.” 

“I don’t want you to believe anything of the sort,” 
Anstruther replied. “ Not a minute had elapsed between 
the time that the light went out and the moment that I 
lighted the match. What a nervous, frightened fool you 
are. You will be saying next that Seymour is concealed 
somewhere in the room, and snatched this brilliant oppor- 
tunity for purloining these papers. Really, we are getting 
on. Hadn’t you better look round the house. You will 
have to go to bed presently, and I should advise you to 
lock your door.” 

All this brutal sarcasm was utterly lost upon Carrington. 
He was as frightened and nervous as a lonely woman 
in a lonely house, who has discovered some strange man 
there. He darted from the room, followed by Anstruther’ s 
contemptuous laughter, and returned presently, saying that 
he had made a thorough search of the flat. 

“Most assuredly nobody is on the premises,” he said. 
He was by no means convinced yet that Anstruther was 
not playing some cunning trick upon him. It is most 
extraordinary. You may say what you like, and prove 
what you like ; but I am ready to swear that I brought 
both those plans into the room with me five minutes ago.” 

“Oh, look up the chimney,” Anstruther growled. 
“ Take all those plants out of your conservatory, and see 
if the thief hasn’t vanished up the water pipe. I am sick 
of all these nervous fears and hysterical suspicions. It 
has always been the curse of my existence that I can never 
lay hands on an accomplice who is anything but a knave 
or a fool.” 

Without heeding the savage outburst, Carrington took 
one of the little silver lamps from the table, and, holding 
it up by its crystal receiver, advanced cautiously in the 


208 


The Yellow Face 


direction of the conservatory. Jack held his breath, and 
prepared for the worst. He felt pretty sure now that he 
aad Seymour would be discovered. Not that he much 
minded, except that he was extremely anxious not to be 
recognized by Anstruther ; but that risk had to be run. 
It was a pity, too, seeing what a marvelous amount of in- 
formation had been gleaned during the last half-hour ; but 
that was all part of the game. 

“ Is it possible he has vanished through the skylight ? ” 
Anstruther sneered. 

Carrington muttered that there was a drop of some 
thirty feet outside the conservatory. He still advanced 
with the lamp in his hand, and peered about him with an 
anxious face. The moment was a critical one indeed, and 
Jack wondered if Seymour’s wonderful fertility of resource 
would be equal to the occasion. In the dim light of the 
lamp he saw Seymour’s right arm steal out, and his 
sinewy fingers close upon a piece of hose pipe attached to 
a tap in the wall. Evidently this had been used for 
watering the flowers. The gardener responsible for the 
well-doing of the rooms doubtless understood his work, and 
watered each pot separately, instead of spraying the whole 
place indiscriminately ; for attached to the hose-pipe was 
the small nozzle meant to convey a fine single jet for some 
distance. 

Jack began dimly to understand what Seymour meant 
to do. It was going to be a dangerous experiment, but 
danger was quite absolutely necessary if the eavesdroppers 
were to escape unrecognized. If Seymour’s plan was ab- 
solutely successful, there was just the chance of them get- 
ting away without their presence there being indicated at 
all. 

Jack saw the lean, brown hand stretch forth and turn 
on the tap in the wall. Then the tap at the end of the 
hose slid round, and a tiny spray of water, fine as a needle 
and strong as the arrow from a bow, struck the chimney 
of the lamp, now nearly red hot, and a tremendous smash 
of cracking glass followed. 

Carrington staggered back, and a kind of hysterical 


209 


The Silver Lamp 

scream broke from his lips. With his nerves strung at 
high tension, the shock of the bursting explosion rendered 
him nearly mad with terror. Seymour turned off the tap 
again, feeling sure that his business was well done. 

“By Jove, that was wonderfully smart, and quickly 
done,” Jack whispered to his companion. “ I rather 
pride myself upon the ingenuity of my stories, especially 
as regards the plots of them, but I never could have 
thought of anything quite like that.” 

“ Not bad,” the other said quite coolly. “ It was all 
a matter of accuracy of aim and steadiness of hand. But 
to a man like myself, who has had vast experience of 
big game shooting, a little affair like that is a mere noth- 
ing.” 

“But you might have missed,” Jack said. “The 
deviation of that spurt of water by even so much as a 
hair’s breadth would have carried it full into Carrington’s 
face, and then our presence must have inevitably been dis- 
covered. That is where the dramatic side of it appeals to 
me. ’ ’ 

“It appealed to me also,” Seymour whispered coolly. 
“ But I had only to imagine that the lamp was the face 
of a famous old man-eating tiger who nearly did for me 
four years ago in Upper Burmah, to render my hand ab- 
solutely steady. If we had been discovered, we should 
have had to have fought our way out ; but I think you 
will agree with me that I have managed the affair in a 
much more artistic way than that.” 

Jack agreed cordially. He was watching now with 
breathless eagerness to see what was the full measure of 
Seymour’s success. Carrington had staggered back with 
a startled cry, though even as yet he did not know the 
danger that was to follow. 

“ By heaven, you have done it well,” Jack muttered. 

“ I think I have,” Seymour whispered complacently. 
“ It occurs to me that I have not left much to be desired.” 

It was done even better than he had anticipated, for a 
few drops of the cold water had trickled down the receiver 
of the lamp and mingled with the oil there. From all 


210 


The Yellow Face 


parts of the brass work round the flame a blue, fiery vapor 
gushed out. With a cry of dismay Carrington almost 
threw the lamp upon the table ; it tottered and fell side- 
ways, and an instant later a stream of burning oil was 
flowing over the table-cloth, and dripping in long tongues 
of flame upon the carpet. 

“For heaven’s sake be careful, you clumsy coward,” 
Anstruther cried. “ You’ll have the whole place on fire ; 
those lamps are very pretty to look at, but dangerous to 
use.” 

But Carrington was not listening at all. He seemed to 
have lost his head entirely. But, frightened as he was, 
he did not fail to notice that the liquid flame was licking 
the other set of plans which were lying on the table. 
Just for an instant his mind was clear enough to see the 
necessity of saving the papers. He leaned forward and 
made a clutch at them. Something hot and stinging 
seemed to be gripping him by the fingers ; he snatched 
his hand back again, and dragged the table-cloth, more 
than half of which was in flames, to the floor. Crash fell 
the second lamp, its crystal receiver smashed by the fall, 
and in the twinkling of an eye the whole room was in 
flames. 

So sudden, so swift and unexpected was the whole 
thing, that Jack could only gasp. He was so lost in ad- 
miration of Seymour’s quickness and coolness, that he 
quite failed to realize the danger in which he and his com- 
panion stood. Less than a minute had elapsed since Sey- 
mour put his scheme into execution, and yet already the 
smoking-room was one mass of lambent flame. 

“ Well, you have done it this time,” Anstruther yelled. 
“ Clear out at once, or there will be no occasion for me 
to trouble about either of us any further. Give an alarm ; 
go out in the street, and yell for the fire engine.” 

Carrington needed no second bidding. Together with 
Anstruther he raced down the stone staircase and into the 
street. Jack could hear his companion chuckling with 
triumph and delight. 

“Rather a close thing that,” he said coolly. “And 


211 


The Silver Lamp 

now we had best look to ourselves. No chance of making 
a dash through those flames without being badly burned ; 
besides, I have no doubt there is some other way out of it. 
Push those windows to, Mr. Masefield ; there is no reason 
why we should be suffocated here.” 

By closing the windows leading to the smoking-room, 
which was now a roaring mass of flame, it was possible to 
cut off the heat and smoke for a moment, and perhaps 
gain sufficient time to discover another means of retreat. 

But this was easier said than done. With the aid of a 
match or two, Seymour found the window at the back of 
the conservatory, which opened outwards. So far as he 
could see there was a drop of something like thirty feet 
into a kind of alley at the back of the flats. 

“ We shall have to wait our chance,” Seymour said. 
“There are several more flats in the building, and no 
doubt there will be plenty to do for the firemen later on. 
In all probability, Anstruther and Carrington are mixed 
up in the crowd which you may be quite sure has collected 
by this time. Shall we wait on events, or shall we open 
the window and yell for assistance ? We can pretend that 
we were cut off by the fire.” 

On the whole, Jack thought it would be better to wait. 
They were quite safe for the next quarter of an hour, at 
any rate, and in that time much might happen. 

“It is worth risking,” he said. “ What a great thing 
it would be if we could get away from here without those 
men knowing that anybody had been on the premises. 
Suppose we try our hands as amateur firemen. There is 
plenty of water here.” 

But Seymour did not think it would be worth while. A 
hose and pipe as small as that which they had at their dis- 
posal would not be likely to be of much use in dealing 
with the roaring tornado of flame behind the closed glass 
doors. The conservatory, too, was getting intolerably 
hot, but that discomfort was avoided by opening the win- 
dow. There was just the outline of a leaded balcony to 
be seen above the arch of the conservatory ; then, greatly 
to Jack’s delight, he saw the movements of some figures 


212 


The Yellow Face 


below, and then a ladder was slowly raised until it rested 
against the leads of the balcony. 

“That is for the benefit of the people up-stairs,” Sey- 
mour suggested. “ Possibly they cannot make the inhabi- 
tants of the upper flats hear what is going on. See, the 
ladder is quite clear by this time — I expect those firemen 
have got in through a window somewhere. Push this 
window back, and see if you can reach the ladder.” 

It was a comparatively easy matter to reach the ladder, 
as Jack found to his great delight. A moment later he 
and Seymour were upon it. They slid rapidly down, and 
found themselves at length in the alley without anybody 
being a penny the wiser. 

“ Well, of all the lucky chances,” Jack exclaimed. 
“We are well out of that. Let us go round to the front 
and see what is going on there.” 

A great crowd had assembled in front of the burning 
flat. The red outlines of a couple of engines could be 
seen ; beyond the crowd there was a sound and regular 
rush of pumping W'ater ; and presently the crowd seemed 
to understand that all danger was over. Jack touched 
his companion’s arm, and called his attention to the fact 
that Carrington and Anstruther were standing within 
eiarshot of them. 

“And what are you going to do now?” asked the 
latter. 

“ Oh, I shall go off and stay at the Great Metropolitan. 
No, you needn’t come along — I have had about enough 
of your company for to-night.” 

Carrington called a hansom, and was whirled aw T ay. 
Seymour smiled in a significant manner. 

“Wouldn’t it be as well,” he suggested, “that you 
also found it convenient to pass the night at the Great 
Metropolitan ? Padini is there, too, and it is possible 
that you may ” 

“Right you are,” Jack said eagerly. “Then I can 
call upon you in the morning and report progress. Good- 
night.” 


CHAPTER XXX 


BEDROOM 14 

Jack had not waited to ask any idle questions ; he had 
felt quite sure from Seymour’s manner that the latter had 
some great scheme in hand. It was very pleasant and 
exhilarating to feel that a man of Seymour’s wonderful 
fertility and courage should be enlisted on his side. Mase- 
field was not without hope that the discoveries of the 
night were not yet complete. He strolled away in the 
direction of the Great Metropolitan, turning these things 
over in his mind. 

It seemed to him that the clerk in the office of the mam- 
moth hotel regarded him somewhat suspiciously, seeing 
that he had arrived without luggage of any kind ; but a 
deposit of a sovereign soon set that matter right. It 
occurred to Jack as a good idea to secure a bedroom as 
nearly as possible next to that of Carrington. The hotel 
was not particularly busy, he discovered, for nobody had 
come in enquiring for bedroom accommodation during the 
last hour. This was a discovery in itself, for it testified 
to the fact that Carrington had not yet arrived. 

It was nearly an hour before he came, and then he 
appeared in a desperate hurry. Discreetly Jack remained 
in the background, but he was close enough to hear 
Carrington arguing and protesting that he must have a 
certain room. The matter seemed to be settled amicably 
at length, and Carrington took his key and departed. 
Jack strolled across to the office again. He had decided 
on a bold policy. 

“I am going to ask you to give me another room,” 
he said. “ I want to be as near as possible to the gentle- 
man who has just gone up-stairs. I think if you do as 
I ask you it may save the hotel trouble. What was the 
number of his room ? ” 


213 


214 


The Yellow Face 


The clerk was friendly enough, and inclined to talk. 
Was it a police matter? he asked. Jack responded 
gravely that he was not in a position to say too much, 
but his mysterious manner had the desired effect, and the 
exchange was made. 

“I haven’t put you exactly next to that gentleman,” 
the clerk explained. “ You see our bedrooms are on a 
sort of cubical system — corridors down both sides, and 
the bedrooms back to back, if I may so express it — with a 
ventilating grating between them for the sake of air. 
That gentleman’s bedroom is 28 ; therefore your room, 
exactly behind it, is No. 14. I hope I have made myself 
plain.” 

Jack replied that the thing was perfectly clear. In- 
deed, the system was in considerable vogue on the Conti- 
nent. He lingered a little longer in the big lounge hall, 
where he smoked a cigarette or two, so as to give Car- 
rington time to get to bed. It occurred to Jack, in an 
idle kind of way, that perhaps Carrington was deceiving 
Anstruther, or why had he not come straight to the hotel ? 
Instead of that, he had evidently gone off somewhere in 
a desperate hurry, and had returned at length to the hotel 
looking very exhausted and agitated. Jack pondered this 
matter in his mind as he went up to his own room. 

It was a comfortable enough bedroom, for the Great 
Metropolitan was noted for the luxury of its appointments ; 
indeed, the room was fit for anybody. The lighting was 
exceedingly efficient ; even over the bed was a pendant, 
evidently intended for those who cared to read after they 
retired to rest. Jack smiled as he noted the elaborate 
dressing-table and wash-hand-stand, to say nothing of a 
huge winged wardrobe, which was almost as big as a 
bedroom itself. Behind this wardrobe, fairly close to the 
ceiling, was the open grating which formed a ventilating 
shaft between the one room and the other one behind 
it. 

Jack carefully closed the door, and with the aid of a 
chair managed to climb to the top of the wardrobe. He 
found that the grating was constructed on the swivel 


Bedroom 14 215 

principle, very like a big cheval glass, so that by tilting it 
slightly it was just possible to see into the next room. 

In the room aforesaid the lights had not yet been turned 
down, so that evidently Carrington had not gone to bed. 
The watcher could hear him impatiently pacing the room 
and muttering to himself from time to time. The mutter- 
ing was exceedingly incoherent, but from the gist of it 
Jack seemed to make out that Carrington was expecting 
somebody. On the far side of the room was a wardrobe 
very much like the one upon which Jack was perched, 
except that it had large plate-glass doors which reflected 
practically everything that was taking place inside the 
room. 

Jack could see Carrington now, lounging in a comfort- 
able armchair and impatiently turning over a great mass 
of papers which lay on a table before him. On the table 
also was a box of cigars, flanked by two glasses and the 
necessary ingredients for the manufacture of whiskey and 
soda. There could be no longer any doubt about it : 
Carrington was expecting a friend. So far as the watcher 
could see, there was no hurry. He was quite prepared to 
sit up all night if necessary, and had no feelings of delicacy 
in listening to what the two scoundrels were going to say 
— provided always that the expected visitor was a 
scoundrel, of which Jack had very little doubt. 

As he stood there, his whole mind strained to attention, 
it seemed to him that he could hear the sound of music 
somewhere. To his trained ear there was something 
familiar in the method of the player. Jack wondered 
where he had heard that finished execution before. Then 
it suddenly flashed upon him. 

“ How stupid,” he muttered to himself. “ I had quite 
forgotten that Padini was here. That is Padini, without 
a shadow of a doubt, carrying out the programme that 
Anstruther made out for him.” 

The music was not far off ; it seemed to Jack that he 
could almost hear the scraping of the bow. It was not 
lost upon him, however, that the whole of the pieces were 
Chopin's compositions. The music ceased presently with 


2i6 


The Yellow Face 


a sudden twang, much as if the E string had violently 
parted. A moment later, by the aid of the friendly 
mirror, Jack saw Carrington’s door open, and the figure 
of Padini come in. Carrington glared at the intruder. 

“What do you mean by keeping me waiting all this 
time?” he growled. “Didn’t you get my telephone 
message ? ’ ’ 

“ And hadn’t I got my work to do ? ” Padini retorted. 
“I dare say you consider yourself to be an exceedingly 
clever fellow, but once you elect to match your wits with 
Anstruther, you will find yourself a lost man. It is no 
use you being in a hurry; as a matter of fact, I should 
have kept you a full hour longer, only I have broken my 
E string, and I don’t happen to have another one on the 
premises.” 

With an angry gesture Padini threw his violin on the 
table. In a mechanical sort of way Carrington looked 
at the severed string. He was always a suspicious man, 
for it was an axiom of his never to trust anybody, and 
he was wondering now if this were not part of some dodge 
being worked out by his visitor. His face grew a little 
anxious as he held one end of the broken string between 
his thumb and finger. 

“ I suppose you call this a simple fracture,” he said. 
“String worn out, and all that kind of thing. If you 
will look at it carefully, you will see that it has been half 
cut; you can actually see how far the knife has gone.” 

Padini examined the string carefully. His face also had 
grown a little gray and anxious. 

“It is exactly as you say, my friend,” he exclaimed. 
“ But I wonder how that was done, and why. It is not as 
if I left my violin about — one is not so careless with a gen- 
uine Amati like mine. I brought the fiddle back with me 
from my afternoon recital, and I am prepared to swear that 
there was nothing the matter with it then. I locked it up 
in my box, and there it stayed till a couple of hours ago. 
Now what does this mean? Does anybody suspect us? 
Has Anstruther’s clever scheme come to the knowledge 


Bedroom 14 217 

of anybody? The police, perhaps, might have dis- 
covered ’ ’ 

“ The police have nothing Avhatever to do with that,” 
Carrington said angrily. “ What have any of us done to 
bring ourselves within the reach of the law — at prese7it ? 
The man that we have most to fear is Seymour. How you 
came to let him slip through your fingers the other night is 
an absolute mystery to me.” 

Padini shrugged his shoulders, and something like an 
oath escaped him. By aid of the friendly mirror Jack ob- 
tained a perfect view of his face. It was white and sinis- 
ter ; the dark eyes gleamed like living coals. 

‘ ‘But Seymour must be dead,” the violinist said 
hoarsely. “ We know he is dead; did we not read it in 
the papers? It may be that some friends stole his body 
for purposes of their own, but dead he is. If I thought he 
was still alive, I should have to leave London ; I dare not 
stay here with a horror like that hanging over me.” 

“You are absolutely wrong,” Carrington cried. “ Sey- 
mour is still alive ; he is still in London, thirsting for 
vengeance. He is rich, he has the courage of a lion, and 
the mind of a Machiavelli. You smile, my friend, but it 
is the smile of a thoroughly frightened man. Seymour is 
after you ; he is after me. Look at this. Don’t say you 
fail to recognize it.” 

“It is his tobacco pouch,” Padini faltered. 

“Yes; I thought you would recognize it. And where 
do you suppose I found that to-night ? In my own room, 
lying on the floor. Do you want any greater proof than 
that, that Seymour was working in my own rooms to- 
night ? ” 

Padini nodded moodily. Jack noticed how his hand 
trembled as he helped himself to the whiskey and soda. 

“Iam sick of this,” he muttered. “ I mean to get out 
of it — I am as anxious as you are to get outside Anstruther’s 
influence. That is why I am here to-night. I am going 
to tell you my plan — call it murderous and treacherous if 
you like — which is the only way of settling Anstruther’s 


218 


The Yellow Face 


claims upon us. If you have any pluck at all — if there is 
anything of the man about you ” 

“No, no,” Carrington faltered. “I tell you I dare 
not.” 

As the speaker broke off, Jack was conscious of some- 
thing like an altercation outside his door. The night 
porter was protesting that something or other was not his 
fault ; the other man’s voice was equally sure that it was. 
It did not require much intelligence to discover that the 
newcomer wanted that particular room. With a thrill 
Jack recognized the voice of Anstruther. In an instant he 
had made up his mind what to do. Like a flash he came 
down from the top of the wardrobe, switched on the light 
over the bed, and proceeded softly to unlock the door. 
There was a knock on the panel at the same moment. 
Jack glanced hastily round, and bundled one or two of his 
belongings into the wing of the wardrobe. He had barely 
time to conceal himself there, before the handle of the 
door turned and Anstruther entered. 

“You can see it is exactly as I said,” the latter re- 
marked. “ I engaged this room an hour ago. It is quite 
evident that no other guest has taken this apartment. If 
he were here, surely there would be a portmanteau, or a 
dressing-case, or something of that kind. Take this half- 
sovereign, and say no more about it. If there is any fuss 
I will take the blame.” 

The man departed ; the door was locked behind him, 
and a moment later Jack could feel the heavy form of An- 
struther climbing to the top of the wardrobe. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 

It was impossible, boxed up as he was in the stuffy at- 
mosphere of the wardrobe, for Jack to hear anything of 
what was going on in the next room. But it was pretty 
easy to guess what was the meaning of Anstruther’s strange 
intrusion. There was only one thing for it, and that was 
to possess his soul in patience and hope that Anstruther 
had no intention of spending the night there. It was per- 
fectly obvious that he had come only with the intention 
of hearing what was taking place in the next room. It 
was impossible for anybody possessed of ordinary intellect 
not to admire Anstruther, whose brilliant qualities could 
not be ignored. Even now, excited as he was, Masefield 
could not repress his admiration for the man he both feared 
and disliked. 

It really was a marvelous thing that Anstruther should 
be so soon upon the track of the man with whom he had 
parted on friendly terms not an hour ago. Was this the 
result of some perfect system of spying, or was it that An- 
struther’s wonderful instinct led him to believe that Car- 
rington was ready to plot against him whilst professing to 
act upon his advice ? Masefield had plenty of time to 
ponder this question, for the figure on the wardrobe above 
gave no signs as yet of having had enough of it. Nor was 
Jack’s situation rendered more pleasant by the knowledge 
that he might have to pass the night in a perpendicular 
position and half stifled by the stuffy atmosphere of the 
wardrobe. 

But there was always comfort in the knowledge that 
Anstruther’s main object was to hear the conversation in 
the next room. It might possibly last not much longer; 

219 


220 


The Yellow Face 


at any rate, Carrington would have to go to bed some 
time, and the sooner the better. 

An hour passed. An hour which seemed the whole of 
a long night came to an end at length, and then there was 
some sound, as if of a body cautiously moving overhead. 
Jack drew a long breath of relief, or at least as long a 
breath as was possible, considering his stifling surround- 
ings. The critical moment had arrived. Had the confer- 
ence next door finished, or was it merely an interlude ? 
Jack wondered. He had been bound to push the door of 
the wardrobe open a little, and now he saw a long slit of 
light, which told him that Anstruther had turned up the 
lamps again. He could hear the latter pacing the room in 
a restless kind of fashion, and muttering to himself as if he 
were not entirely satisfied with what he had heard. 

Jack, greatly daring, ventured to push the wardrobe door 
open slightly further. He caught a side view of his enemy 
as the latter sat moodily on the bed, with apparently no 
intention of removing his clothing. It was quite within 
the bounds of possibility now that Anstruther, having sat- 
isfied himself, would leave the hotel altogether. A moment 
later and Jack saw that his conclusion was the right one. 
Anstruther turned towards the door. 

“No reason to stay here any longer,” he muttered. 
“I’m as tired as a dog. I suppose my nerves are not what 
they used to be, or perhaps I am growing old ; at any rate, 
this sort of thing tells upon me more than it used to. 
Certainly that half-sovereign of mine was well laid out. 
Oh, you contemptible pair of rascals — so you think you are 
going to get the best of Spencer Anstruther. We shall see. 
And as to Padini ” 

The speaker shook his fist in the direction of the next 
room, and walked quietly in the direction of the door. 
Jack could hear the key turn in the lock. He felt a 
suggestion of draught as if the room were now open to 
the corridor. The next instant the lights vanished, and 
Anstruther had left the room. Jack crept out into the 
comparatively pure atmosphere, and wiped the moisture 
from his forehead. He preferred to remain in the dark- 


A Chance Encounter 


221 


ness till he had made up his mind what to do. Looking 
up in the direction of the ventilator, he could see that tne 
lights were now extinguished in Carrington’s bedroom. 
This was plain evidence of the fact that the conference 
was concluded, and that there was no occasion to stay 
any longer. 

“ I’ll get out of it too,” Jack muttered to himself. “ It 
is only a matter of forfeiting my sovereign, and what I 
have learned is cheap at the price ; but I shall have to be 
cautious.” 

It was perhaps fortunate for Jack that a somewhat 
large rush of late guests came into the hotel at the same 
moment. Most of them were racing men returning from 
a big meeting up north. Anyway, the servants appeared 
to be particularly busy, so that Jack felt that he could 
slip away without any suspicions as to his movements. He 
waited just a moment till the corridor was practically 
empty, then sauntered towards the head of the stairs with 
the air of a man who has just come in. 

He had practically reached the big square landing, when 
a bedroom door opened cautiously, and a man’s face 
peeped out. It occurred to Jack that possibly this man 
was looking for something, or that he was going to deposit 
his boots outside, or something of that kind. But the 
stranger, who was about half-dressed, did nothing of the 
kind. On the contrary, he raised his finger in a mysteri- 
ous manner, and beckoned deliberately to Jack. He did 
not appear in the least agitated ; on the contrary, his ex- 
pression was one of caution and mistrust. Jack, thinking 
that it might have been a little play of fancy on his part, 
would have moved on, only the stranger stepped briskly 
outside and touched him on the arm. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Jack asked 
politely. “ I suppose your bell’s gone wrong, or some- 
thing of that sort ; I am quite at your service.” 

“ Will you be good enough to step inside my room? ” 
the stranger said. “ The request will probably strike you 
as being somewhat out of the common, but I really have 
something important to say to you.” 


222 


The Yellow Face 


As was quite natural in the circumstances, Jack hesi- 
tated for a moment. Like most people, he had heard and 
read a great deal about strange hotel outrages, and it 
occurred to him now that he might have been chosen for 
the victim of one of these. Possibly the stranger was mad, 
or possibly he was suffering from alcoholic excess. But 
Jack felt more reassured as he carefully examined the 
features of the stranger. 

He was a tall, slim man, who palpably was recovering 
from some dangerous illness. It was either that, or he 
was far gone in consumption. Jack could see that the 
mere act of standing there was a weariness of the flesh ; 
he noted also the attenuated arms, which at one time or 
another must have been exceedingly powerful, for the 
sinews and muscles seemed to hang upon the bones like 
rags. 

But it was the face of the man that attracted Jack’s 
attention most. It was long and lean and pallid ; there 
were thin strips of plaster skilfully bandaged about the 
eyes and mouth, and down the sides of the long, hawk-like 
nose. Still, behind it all, there was ever the suggestion 
that this man was a sportsman and an athlete. Jack 
seemed to know by instinct that his new acquaintance 
was a man who had passed much time in warm climates. 
He began to wonder if the stranger had laid violent hands 
upon himself. It was very strange to see all that maze 
of plaster, as if the face had been carved in some grotesque 
fashion with a knife. 

“Do please come inside for a moment,” the stranger 
pleaded. “ I assure you I mean no harm, and our con- 
versation may result in a wonderful deal of good. You 
evidently regard me as a kind of lunatic. Well, in some 
respects, perhaps, you are right ; but there is a good deal 
of method in my madness.” 

Jack still hesitated. The stranger sighed bitterly. 

“I see I must be candid with you,” he said. “ I am 
taking a great risk, but I am trusting you because I never 
make a mistake about a face. You have been closeted for 
some time in the same room with Spencer Anstruther, but 


A Chance Encounter 


223 

that you are an accomplice of his I feel sure is impossible. 
Now will you come inside my room? ” 

Jack hesitated no longer. He strode into the room, and 
his new acquaintance closed the door behind him. The 
apartment was furnished half as a sitting, half as a bed- 
room. A fire burned in the grate, an invalid armchair was 
pulled up to one side of it. There was plenty of proof, 
also, of the fact that the occupant of the room was an 
invalid. Here were bottles with chemists’ labels; here 
were some cotton wool and a case of surgical instruments. 
In one corner of the room was a small iron bedstead, which 
was obviously placed there for the use of a male nurse. 

“ You are quite right,” the stranger said, as if reading 
Jack’s thoughts. “ As a matter of fact, there is no 
reason why you should have accepted my invitation at all 
— one hears of so many strange things happening in these 
big modern hotels. As you imagine, I am just recover- 
ing from a dangerous illness, the result of a very delicate 
operation. But we need not go into that. What you 
are dying to find out is how I know all about Spencer 
Anstruther.” 

“ I confess I am a little curious on the point,” Jack said 
drily. “ You are taking a great risk when you mention 
his name and assume that I am no friend of his.” 

“ You couldn’t be with a face like yours,” the stranger 
replied. “ A dupe, perhaps, or a man he was making use 
of ; but never one of his infamous gang. And yet you 
were in that room with him a long time to-night.” 

Jack hesitated a moment before he spoke again. 

“ Look here,” he said. “ You have been fairly candid 
with me, and in return I will be as candid with you. 
Anstruther is a great scoundrel, and it is to my interest and 
to the interests of those I love that the man should be 
exposed and rendered harmless for the future. Now, how 
did you know that we were in the same bedroom to- 
gether? ” 

“ That is easily explained,” said the other. “ My male 
nurse was suddenly called away this evening on important 
business. I have been feeling so much better the last day 


22 4 


The Yellow Face 


or two that I decided to do without a substitute. Mind 
you, I knew perfectly well that Anstruther was frequently 
in the habit of spending an occasional night here. And I 
had my own reasons for keeping out of his way. But 
something happened to my bell to-night, and I had to go 
to the top of the corridor and use the bell there. It was 
quite by accident that I saw you enter Bedroom No. 14, 
and it was quite by accident, also, that I heard Anstruther 
demand to know why he could not have the same room. 
I listened with curiosity, because the thing struck me as 
very strange. It struck me as stranger still when I heard 
Anstruther say that the room was empty, and saw him close 
the door behind him.” 

“ A kind of vanishing trick,” Jack smiled. 

“ Well, yes, if you like to put it in that way,” the other 
said. “ It was either one of two things — you were there 
as an accomplice, which I refuse for one moment to believe, 
or you had hidden yourself in the room for the purpose of 
watching Anstruther. In fact, seeing that circumstances 
were going for you, you laid a neat little trap for Anstruther. 
Have I not guessed it correctly ? ” 

“ Your deductions are perfectly sound,” Jack said. “ I 
deliberately chose that bedroom with the full intention of 
overhearing what was going on in the room behind. 
When I heard Anstruther come in, I hid myself in the 
wardrobe and stayed there till he left the room. Now I 
have told you all that has happened so far as I am con- 
cerned. It is your turn to be communicative.” 

“ I am exceedingly sorry to appear discourteous,” the 
stranger said ; “ but I am afraid I cannot tell you very 
much. The mere mention of Anstruther’s name always 
throws me into a kind of terror. I may be able to help 
you later on, but for the present I am bound to silence. 
But tell me now, do you see any likeness between An- 
struther and myself? ” 

The question was asked with an eagerness that struck 
Jack as being far beyond the necessity of so simple a 
query. The speaker seemed to fairly tremble for Jack's 
reply. 


A Chance Encounter 


225 


“ There does not begin to be any resemblance,” he 
said. “ The question strikes me as being a strange one. 
And now let me ask you a question. From what you say, 
you appear to know Anstruther exceedingly well. Now, 
did you ever notice his likeness to anybody? You have 
seen him when he has been greatly moved to passion, I 
suppose? ” 

The stranger shuddered, and turned away his head. 

“ That is sufficient answer for me,” Jack said. “ I dare 
say you have noticed those strange Nostalgo posters. 
Did it ever occur to you that Anstruther is not unlike 
those pictures? ” 

The effect of the question was extraordinary. The 
stranger looked at Jack with eyes filled with terror. 

“Strange, very strange,” he muttered hoarsely. “You 
have hit it exactly. May I ask, have you ever been in 
Mexico ? ’ ’ 

“No,” Jack replied; “but I know a man who has. 
Did you ever meet an individual out there called 
Seymour ? ” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


lady Barmouth’s jewels 

Jack had merely drawn a bow at a venture, but the shaft 
went home to the feather. By instinct he seemed to divine 
the fact that the stranger who knew so much of Anstruther’s 
inner life might also know as much as the man called 
Nostalgo, otherwise Seymour. This instinct did not play 
Jack false, for he saw his companion stagger back as if he 
had been shot. He fell into a chair, and plucked feebly 
at the arms of it with his fingers. 

“You are on dangerous ground indeed,” he said 
hoarsely. “ Have you a wife depending on you, or one 
you love ? If so, turn your back upon me at once, and 
never see my face again.” 

It was a warning deep, thrilling, and impressive. But 
Jack merely shook his head and smiled. He had no in- 
tention of turning back now. 

“ I know too much or too little,” he said. “Mr. 
Seymour is by way of being a friend of mine — in fact, I 
was the means of doing him a great service the other 
night. But I see from the expression of your face that 
you know all about that.” 

“ Have you seen Seymour in the daylight, just as he 
is?” the stranger asked eagerly. “You know what I 
mean.” 

“ I know what you mean perfectly well,” Jack replied. 
“ I have seen Seymour just as he is. To make another 
shot, I have also seen Lord Barmouth just as he is.” 

The stranger sat bolt upright in his chair, and regarded 
Jack with grim satisfaction. 

“This is good news indeed,” he said. “ I am pleased 
to find out that I am betraying no secrets in my conver- 
sation with you. What I want you to do is this — I want 

22 6 


Lady Barmouth’s Jewels 227 

you to arrange a meeting between Seymour and myself. 
It will be dangerous for me to leave the hotel at present, 
so that you must arrange it in a way that Seymour can 
come here.” 

“If you will be good enough to tell me your name,” 
Jack suggested. 4 4 It is just possible ” 

The stranger shook his head, and hoped that Jack 
would not deem him guilty of being discourteous if he 
withheld his name for the present. He took from a desk 
a small, curiously-designed ring, and passed it across to 
Jack. 

“ I think you will find that all that is necessary,” he 
explained. 1 ‘ If you will take that ring and say that it 
came from the owner, I am quite sure that Seymour will 
be willing to fall in with my wishes. And now, I will bid 
you good-night, sir. It is good to know that we have a 
man of your courage and intelligence on our side.” 

So saying, the stranger rose to his feet, and extended 
his long, slim hand to Jack. He intimated that Jack 
might come and see him from time to time, but that caution 
would be absolutely necessary. 

“ Ask for Jabez Smith,” he said. “ That is the name 
under which I am known here. If you only knew how 
fortunate a thing it is that we have met to-night ! But 
Lord Barmouth and Seymour will be able to prove that to 
you presently. Once more, good-night.” 

The door closed behind Jack ; he heard the click of the 
lock, and found himself alone in the corridor. He could 
see that there were still many people smoking and chatting 
in the big lounge below. The great hall door was not 
yet closed, so that it was possible for Jack to slip into the 
street absolutely unnoticed. He felt restless and excited, 
and absolutely devoid of any desire to rest. Sleep in the 
circumstances would be out of the question. It was no 
use going home, there to toss and fret all night. It was 
just possible, too, that Rigby had not yet left the Planet 
office, as it was barely one o’clock. Anyway, a walk in 
the cool night air was bound to prove invigorating. It 
did not much matter, however, whether Masefield saw 


228 The Yellow Face 

Rigby or not. He could tell him all this exciting history 
in the morning. 

But Rigby was still in his office, waiting for a proof ; 
after which he declared he meant to go to the Press Club 
for supper. It was an entertaining supper, for Jack’s nar- 
rative was piquant enough, as he had so much to tell. 

“ Well, you have had a night of it,” Rigby said enviously. 
“ Who are you that you should have all the luck like this? 
Here have I been all the evening, doing nothing to earn 
the approval of my proprietor, whilst you have been getting 
at the heart of the mystery. I shall have to divide my fee 
with you, Jack.” 

For a long time they discussed the matter in all its bear- 
ings. What seemed to interest Rigby more than anything 
else was the scheme proposed by Anstruther to get Carring- 
ton out of his serious position. He saw great possibilities 
now that the plan of the bank premises had come into the 
possession of the man Seymour, especially as the con- 
spirators were unaware of this. 

“ We ought to be able to make a good thing out of this,” 
he said thoughtfully. “ Of course, it will all have to be 
worked out very carefully ; but I should like to catch those 
fellows in the trap they have laid for others. After all, it 
makes no difference to you how Anstruther is got out of 
the way, so long as he receives a good dose of penal servi- 
tude. That once being done, we shall be able to work 
quite openly, and it is evident that your new friend Sey- 
mour can expound the whole of the Nostalgo business. I 
shall get my special article for the Planet , after all ; but it 
will be more thanks to you than to my own efforts.” 

“Well, you needn’t tell Van Jens that,” Jack laughed. 
“ Give me the outline of your scheme.” 

“ I want to force Carrington’s hand. I want him to 
understand how desperate his situation is, so that he and 
Anstruther must take action at once. Now, for instance, 
you tell me you heard Carrington say to-night that his 
bank has a great amount of jewelry in its keeping. Is 
that so? ” 

“ They had it in their keeping,” Jack said, drily. 


Lady Barmouth’s Jewels 229 

‘‘Well, that is exactly what I mean,” Rigby responded. 
“ And Carrington is in mortal terror lest some great lady 
should come along at any moment and demand her gems. 
You will remember telling me that Carrington was especially 
apprehensive over the great masked ball which is coming 
off at Lady Barmouth’s in two days’ time. Do you hap- 
pen to know any of the titled women who are asked ? If 
you could get one of them to go round to Carrington’s to- 
morrow and ask for her gems, why ” 

“I see exactly what you mean,” Jack cried eagerly. 
“We should force the hands of those two scoundrels, 
and compel them to do something without delay. By so 
doing, also, we should upset the delicate schemes of An- 
struther — — ” 

“You have got it exactly,” Rigby murmured. “ Can 
you bring this about ? It should easily be done. ’ ’ 

“I don’t see very well how I can do it myself,” Jack 
responded. “ But Claire knows a great many of these 
people, and I should think she would not have the slightest 
difficulty in doing what we need. Anyway, I’ll go round 
and see her to-morrow morning, and tell her exactly what 
has taken place. Is it all that time? Really, I must go 
to bed and try and get some sleep. Good-night.” 

After all, youth will be served, even in the way of sleep ; 
and Jack was surprised to find, on waking next morning, 
that it was nearly ten o’clock. It was nearly twelve before 
he knocked at the door of the house in Panton Square and 
asked to see Claire. It was Serena who answered the 
summons — Serena, gray and silent and subdued in the 
morning light. All the same, she gave Jack one swift, 
furtive glance before her eyes sought the floor again. 

“I will go up to the drawing-room myself,” Jack said. 
** So you are none the worse for your last night’s adventure, 
Serena ? Come, you need not look at me like that, and 
pretend not to understand. What were you doing in Mr. 
Carrington’s flat last night?” 

A sound like a sob broke from Serena, but she answered 
nothing. 

“ If you only knew how profoundly sorry I am for you,” 


230 


The Yellow Face 


Jack said softly. “ When the time comes, you will have 
to speak ; and when the time comes we shall deal with you 
as kindly as possible. Although you refuse to speak now, 
you must not believe otherwise than that. We know 
everything. We know, for instance, where you were last 
night, and we have nothing to learn as to the deaf mute 
and the young man who has a fancy to wear his moustache 
in the same form as the style affected by the German 
Emperor.” 

Serena listened, with her eyes fixed mutely on Jack’s 
face. It seemed to him that she was bursting with anxiety 
to speak, but that some strange force held her tongue and 
choked her utterance. 

“ Do not go too far,” she said presently, in a strained, 
hard whisper. “ Not that I mean to threaten you. Be- 
lieve me, I am all on your side ; but I dare not speak. 
You may call me coward if you like ; you may say that I 
have no nerve or courage ; but if you had gone through 
the hell that my life has been the last few years, you would 
wonder that I had the strength of mind to look even the 
feeblest fellow creature in the face.” 

Just at the moment when it seemed to Jack that Serena 
was likely to take him into her confidence, she turned 
abruptly away, and disappeared in the direction of the 
kitchen. Jack went slowly and thoughtfully up-stairs to 
the drawing-room, where he found Claire with her hat on 
ready to go out. It was clear that she had not expected 
him, but her welcome was none the less warm for that. 

“I am afraid I shall have to detain you a little time, 
dearest,” Jack said. “ A great deal has happened since I 
saw you yesterday, and I think you ought to know most 
of it. Sit down a moment, please.” 

Claire sat by her lover’s side, and listened intently to 
the strange story that he had to tell. It was clear from 
the expression of her blue eyes that she was a little fearful 
for her lover. She clutched his arm impulsively, and he 
responded to the touch. It was not difficult for him to 
realize what was passing in her mind. 

“You need not have any anxiety as far as I am 


231 


Lady Barmouth’s Jewels 

concerned,” he said. “Very fortunately for us, those 
scoundrels have not the least idea that we know so much 
of their movements. But what I came here especially for 
this morning was to ask you if you knew anybody going to 
Lady Barmouth’s dance whose jewels are in the keeping of 
Carrington’s bank ? I think I explained Rigby’s point to 
you. Do you know anybody who could help us?” 

“ I know one who could help you who is not very far 
off, dear old boy,” Claire smiled. “You seem to have 
forgotten that I am rather an important person in my 
small way. Did I never tell you of the jewels that my 
grandmother left me?” 

“ I declare I had quite forgotten them,” Jack said. “I 
never care to associate you with money, especially as I 
have so little of my own. Diamonds, weren’t they ? ” 

“ Diamonds and sapphires,” Claire explained. “ They 
are really almost unique in their way. I generally keep 
them, on the advice of my guardian, with Mr. Carrington. 
Let us go round there now and ask for the gems.” 

It was not exactly what Jack had meant, because it oc- 
curred to him that Carrington might easily vamp some 
excuse so far as Claire was concerned, and then get An- 
struther to invent some reason why the jewels were not 
forthcoming. Still, it might do, and there was no reason 
why they should not try it. 

“ I was going really to see Lady Barmouth,” Claire ex- 
plained. “But I can call in there as we return from the 
city. Let us have a hansom at once.” 

The imposing offices of the City and Provincial Bank 
were reached at length. There was nothing inside or out- 
side the place to denote that the concern was trembling to 
the verge of bankruptcy. Mr. Carrington was not busy, a 
polite cashier informed them, and he would be pleased to 
see Miss Helmsley at once. Jack followed in behind 
Claire, and he could not but be impressed by the ease and 
assurance of Carrington's manner. The latter did not 
show the slightest signs of agitation when Claire explained 
her presence there. 

“Certainly,” he said. “You have come, of course, 


232 


The Yellow Face 


provided with your guardian’s signature. No ? I am 
afraid we cannot dispense with that formality. Send it 
on by messenger, and one of our own clerks shall bring 
the jewels round. What a delightful morning it is ! 
Good-bye.” 

Jack accepted his checkmate cheerfully enough. It was 
exceedingly adroit and clever on Carrington’s part, and 
some other method of forcing his hand would have to be 
adopted. Jack was bowing himself out, when some one 
else came sailing into the room ; and, to his great delight, 
Jack recognized Lady Barmouth. He divined at once 
v/hat she had come for and what her errand was. 

“ Good- morning, all of you,” she cried, gaily. “Mr. 
Carrington, you will not thank me for disturbing you this 
time of the day, but as I happen to be passing this way I 
thought I would save trouble. Will you be so good as to 
hand me over my jewels ? ” 

Carrington made no answer. His face was pale as ashes. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


GEMS OR PASTE? 

It was a dramatic moment, especially for Claire and 
Jack, who fully appreciated the peril in which Carrington 
stood. The fact was not hidden to them that Carrington’s 
excuse to Claire was but an ingenious way out of a terrible 
difficulty. On more than one occasion Claire had herself 
fetched her jewels from the bank, and no objections had 
been raised. Still, Carrington was clearly within his legal 
right, and Jack could not but admire the swiftness with 
which he had got himself out of the tangle. His own 
face was a model of absolute indifference ; he just glanced 
at Claire to see if she expressed any suspicion. But Claire 
smiled in a way so natural and artless that Jack had no 
fears of her for the future. 

With Lady Barmouth, however, it was quite a different 
matter. As yet, she knew nothing of the terrible straits in 
which Carrington found himself involved. She had come 
down for her jewels in the ordinary way, as she had done 
many times before, and expected to take them away with 
her. Carrington affected to be talking to somebody down 
the speaking tube, but in reality he was fighting to gain 
time and work out some ingenious excuse. Jack enjoyed 
his dismay with a feeling of grim satisfaction. 

But Carrington was not quite done with yet ; evidently 
he had not sat at the feet of Anstruther for nothing. He 
looked up presently, and smiled with the air of a man who 
is only too willing to do anything for his client. 

“ Will you take a seat for a moment, Lady Barmouth ? ” 
he said politely. “I see that you know Miss Helmsley 
and Mr. Masefield. I must go and speak to our cashier 
for a moment.” 

“ You cannot get the jewels yourself? ” Lady Bar- 
mouth asked. 


2 33 


The Yellow Face 


234 


“No,” Carrington explained. “Of course, we are 
bound to take precautions. I have no more power to 
open one of the safes by myself than one of my junior 
clerks.” 

“ That would be awkward if you wanted anything out 
of bank hours,” Jack suggested. “How do you manage 
then?” 

“Well, we simply don’t manage,” Carrington said. 
He was quite himself again by this time. “ I can no 
more get into the strong room that you could. I should 
have to get the manager and chief cashier before a safe 
could be opened.” 

All this sounded plausible enough, as Jack was bound 
to admit. Carrington went off with a jaunty step, as 
if he had all the millions of the Bank of England behind 
him. Jack wondered how he would get out of the mess. 
But the solution of the puzzle was quite easy. Carrington 
came back with a look of annoyance on his face. 

“I am exceedingly sorry, Lady Barmouth,” he apolo- 
gized. “ The fact is, Mr. Perkins has been called away 
on important business to our West-End branch. He can- 
not possibly get back in less than an hour. Do you want 
your jewels in such a hurry ? ’ ’ 

Lady Barmouth was fain to confess that she didn’t. 
She would not require them till the following evening ; 
only some time must necessarily be spent in the cleaning 
of them. 

“Plenty of time for that,” Carrington smiled. “I will 
send a special messenger in a cab to bring the cases to 
your house by lunch time. I hope that will be convenient 
to you.” 

Lady Barmouth, innocent of the part which she was 
playing in the comedy, replied that that arrangement 
would suit her exceedingly well ; indeed, she was sorry 
to give so much trouble. She swept out of the bank par- 
lor, followed by Jack and Claire. A well-appointed 
brougham stood outside, and she smilingly offered her 
companions a lift. 

“I am going to take Claire back to lunch with me,” 


Gems or Paste ? 


235 

she said. “ Can I set you down anywhere, Mr. Mase- 
field?” 

“ You can set me down, if you please, on you own 
door-step,” Jack smiled. “ As a matter of fact, I was just 
going to see Lord Barmouth, and now I have something 
serious to say to you. Were you satisfied just now? 
About the jewels, I mean ? ” 

Lady Barmouth looked puzzled as Jack followed her 
into the brougham. She saw nothing, so she said, to 
arouse any suspicions, except that she thought a needless 
fuss had been made over her gems. Shb was still discuss- 
ing the matter, when the brougham reached Belgrave 
Square, and the three alighted. Once they were in the 
drawing-room, Lady Barmouth turned to Jack aad asked 
him what he meant. He shook his head doubtfully. 

“I am afraid I am goingto upset you very much,” he 
said. “ But unless I am greatly mistaken, you are never 
likely to see your diamonds again.” 

Lady Barmouth stared open-mouthed at the speaker. She 
explained that her diamonds were of great value ; indeed, 
some of the stones were historic. Those diamonds had 
often been mentioned in personal paragraphs, which are 
such a feature in the modern newspaper, and Jack recol- 
lected a description of them perfectly well. He proceeded 
to explain, at considerable length, the history of his last 
night’s adventure. Lady Barmouth’s face grew still more 
grave when at length the recital was finished. 

“This is a very serious matter,” she said. “Do you 
know this is likely to cost Lord Barmouth something like 
fifty thousand pounds? The City and Provincial Bank 
does a good deal of business with people well known in 
Society, and I am afraid many of us will be involved. 
What do you suppose has become of those diamonds, Mr. 
Masefield?” 

“They have been pawned, of course,” Jack said. 
“Carrington has taken that dreadful risk in the desperate 
hope of retrieving his position. But the whole scandal 
is bound to become public property before eight and forty 
hours have passed.” 


The Yellow Face 


236 

There was nothing for it now but to wait and see what 
time would bring forth. Lord Barmouth was not yet 
down ; indeed, his man said that he would not appear till 
after luncheon. But there was no lack of animated con- 
versation in the drawing-room, and the discussion was con- 
tinued till the gong rang for lunch. 

“I tell you what I think the best thing to do,” Lady 
Barmouth said, as Jack held the drawing-room door open 
for her. “You are a barrister, and accustomed to deal 
with legal matters. If those stones fail to arrive by half- 
past two, I will give you my written authority, and you 
shall take it to the bank and insist upon something definite 
being done.” 

Luncheon was a thing of the past, and it was getting on 
towards three o’clock, when a cab drove up to the door, 
and a footman announced the fact that a gentleman from 
the City and Provincial Bank desired to see Lady Barmouth. 
She returned presently, beaming with smiles, and 
announced that Jack had been mistaken ; for the gems 
had not only been delivered, but had also been handed 
over to the speaker’s maid. 

Slightly taken aback, Jack expressed a natural curious 
desire to see the stones in question. Lady Barmouth rang 
the bell, and presently a smart French maid appeared, 
bearing four shabby-looking cases in her hand. They 
were laid on the table, and Jack suggested that Lady Bar- 
mouth should open one of them. 

“I see you are still suspicious,” she smiled. “Evi- 
dently things were not so desperate with Mr. Carrington 
as you appear to imagine. What do you think of those? ” 

With pardonable pride, Lady Barmouth lifted the cover 
of one of the cases and displayed the flashing contents 
to Claire’s admiring eyes. A livid stream of flame dazzled 
and blinked in the sunshine. Claire’s cry of delight was 
echoed by an exclamation of astonishment from Lady 
Barmouth. 

“ There is some extraordinary mistake here,” she said. 
“ I admit that these stones are exceedingly beautiful, but, 
unfortunately, they are not mine at all. They look to me 


Gems or Paste ? 


2 37 


much more like the property of the Duchess of Birming- 
ham. I have no pearls or emeralds — my jewels are all dia- 
monds and sapphires. The cases must have been changed ; 
a mistake easily accounted for, as they are both green 
wraps.” 

But Jack was not in the least convinced. This was 
some desperate expedient to lull Lady Barmouth’s sus- 
picions to sleep for the time. And doubtless Carrington 
had gone off hot foot to Anstruther, and implored him to 
find some way out of the terrible difficulty. Another idea 
occurred to Jack, but this he did not dare to mention for 
the present — it was too suggestive of a situation from some 
melodrama. 

“ I think I can explain the whole thing,” he said. 
“ But, first of all, I should like to take Lord Barmouth’s 
opinion on the matter. Probably he has finished his own 
lunch by this time. Will you see if he is ready to receive 
me?” 

Lord Barmouth was glad enough to see Jack, and wel- 
comed him quite cordially. Then Jack laid the jewel 
cases upon the table, and proceeded to relate once more 
the story of last night’s happenings. He concluded with 
a description of his visit to Carrington, and epitomized the 
incident of the changed jewels. 

“ Certainly a most extraordinary thing,” Barmouth 
said. “ I rather gather from the expression of your face 
that you have some solution to offer.” 

“ Indeed I have,” Jack said eagerly. “ This is merely 
a trick to gain time, and an exceedingly clever trick, too. 
Carrington had naturally assumed that we know nothing 
of his desperate position. If we were in the dark on that 
point, the mistake would look exceedingly natural. But, 
knowing what we do, the situation is entirely changed. I 
don’t believe those are the Duchess of Birmingham’s dia- 
monds — I don’t believe they are diamonds at all.” 

“By Jove ! You have hit it exactly,” Barmouth cried. 
“ What a really magnificent idea ! Carrington has no 
diamonds ; therefore he lays out, say, a couple of hundred 
pounds in some showy-looking paste, and sends them 


The Yellow Face 


238 

round here as my wife’s gems. She, absolutely innocent 
of any deception, sends them back and asks to have the 
mistake rectified. Back from the bank comes a polite 
note of regret apologizing for the mistake, and promising 
the proper stones for to-morrow, the cashier having left for 
the day.” 

“Exactly my idea,” Jack cried. “But we can soon 
settle that, Lord Barmouth. You have only to telephone 
to your family jeweler, and ask him to step round here for 
a moment.” 

Barmouth fell in with the suggestion at once, and a 
telephone message was dispatched to the famous firm of 
Flint & Co., in Bond Street. Mr. Flint himself arrived a 
few minutes later, and the dubious gems were laid before 
him. He had not the slightest hesitation in giving his 
verdict. 

“Paste, my lord,” he said briefly, “and pretty poor 
stuff at that. I can see that, even in this dim light. See 
how dull these stones are ! Real gems, even in semi- 
gloom, shimmer and sparkle, but these don’t show up at 
all. The whole lot did not cost more than two hundred 
pounds ; in fact, these things are little better than stage 
jewels.” 

“ Can you tell us where they come from ? ” Jack asked. 

“Certainly I can, sir,” Mr. Flint replied, promptly. 
“There are occasions when clients of ours are compelled 
to exchange the real for the false. In cases like that we 
go to Osmond & Co., of Clerkenwell, where these came 
from. I hope there is nothing wrong.” 

Barmouth said politely that that matter could be dis- 
cussed on a future occasion. He would not detain Mr. 
Flint any more for the present, and the latter bowed him- 
self out of the room. 

“ What do you propose to do now ? ” Barmouth asked. 

“Well, with your permission, I propose to strike while 
the iron is hot,” Jack said. “ It is quite evident that this 
rubbish has been purchased very recently from Osmond’s. 
If you will allow me to do so, I will go at once with the 
cases to Clerkenwell, and ascertain the purchaser. If we 


Gems or Paste ? 


2 39 

can bring Carrington to book promptly, we may recover 
Lady Barmouth’s jewels yet.” 

Barmouth had nothing to say except in praise of this 
suggestion. Accordingly, Jack set off in a cab for Clerk- 
enwell, where he had no difficulty in finding the fine busi- 
ness premises of Osmond & Co. He lost no time in 
diplomacy, but proceeded to lay the whole matter before 
the head of the firm. 

“You will see there is something very wrong here,” he 
said. “ This manufacture of yours has been deliberately 
substituted for some valuable gems belonging to a lady 
whose name I am not at liberty to divulge for the present. 
Mr. Flint, of Bond Street, says that the paste has been 
purchased from you. We have absolute proof of the fact 
that the stuff was bought during the past two hours. I 
shall be glad if you will tell me the name of the purchaser. 
I don’t suppose the stuff was booked.” 

Mr. Osmond explained that theirs was practically a cash 
business. A few inquiries elicited the fact that the paste 
had been bought about two hours before by a tall, slim 
gentleman, who had driven up in a hansom cab. There 
was another gentleman in the cab, but he had not entered 
the shop. 

“ Were the jewels paid for in cash ? ” Jack asked. 

They had not been paid for in hard cash, the cashier 
explained. The bill had come to two hundred pounds 
altogether, and had been made out to a Mr. Morrison. 
He had paid for them with twenty ten-pound notes in a 
most businesslike way, and gone away again — the whole 
thing not having taken more than five minutes. Jack 
suggested that he would like to see the notes. They were 
fresh and clean, but across the face of all of them was a 
circular blue mark bearing the words, “ City and Pro- 
vincial Bank ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


IN THE VAULT 

Here was proof positive enough to convict Carrington 
of the crime which had been alleged against him. Nor 
did Jack doubt for a moment that Anstruther was at the 
bottom of this daring and original scheme. The mere fact 
that there was another man in the cab with Carrington 
was sufficient to prove this point, for nobody else was 
likely to accompany the bank manager on so delicate and 
private an errand. Where the fatal mistake came in, was 
in Carrington taking the Bank of England notes from his 
own safe, and ignoring the fact that the official blue 
stamp was upon them. 

As Jack stepped into the street, he had pretty well made 
up his mind what to do. Not for a moment did he be- 
lieve that Carrington had an accomplice amongst his own 
staff. Jack reached the premises of the City and Pro- 
vincial at length, and asked to see Mr. Carrington. He 
was told that that gentleman had suddenly been called out 
on important business, and was not expected back to-day. 
But Masefield was not in the least disappointed to hear 
this. There was nothing for it now, but to return to Bel- 
grave Square, and tell the Barmouths what had happened. 
He found Lord Barmouth in the drawing-room, where the 
blinds had been pulled down. Lady Barmouth had gone 
to an important function which she could not very well 
ignore, and had taken Claire along with her. Lord Bar- 
mouth listened gravely to all that Jack had to say. 

“I am very much afraid that my wife will have to put 
up with the loss of her gems,” he said. “ No doubt they 
and many others are pledged with some great firm of 
pawnbrokers. The only consolation one has is the possi- 
bility of getting the stuff back by paying half its price over 
240 


In the Vault 


2 4 l 


again. But matters cannot be allowed to rest here. Car- 
rington knows that he is at the end of his tether ; con- 
sequently, that clever bogus burglary you heard discussed 
last night must take place this evening. What do you pro- 
pose to do ? In my present unfortunate condition I can’t 
interfere. The only thing I can do is to leave it entirely 
in your hands.” 

Jack went off presently to seek Rigby, whom he found 
at his rooms. The latter looked up eagerly, for he could 
see from his friend’s face that Jack had a great deal to 
tell. 

“ There is one little thing that seems to stand in the 
way of our ultimate success,” Jack said, thoughtfully, 
“ and that is as to Lady Barmouth’s brother. I am afraid 
that he is in some way mixed up with this business — to his 
detriment, I mean. I should not care to do anything 
likely to cause additional pain to that estimable lady after 
all her great kindness.” 

Rigby looked up in some bewilderment. Apparently 
he did not quite understand the drift of Jack’s argument. 

“ I may be very dense,” he said, “but I don’t follow 
you. What can Lady Barmouth’s brother have to do 
with it? ” 

“ Well, you must cast your memory back to the night 
of the great adventure, when Lady Barmouth played so 
courageous a part, and got us out of a serious difficulty. 
Do you follow? ” 

“ I think I do now,” Rigby said slowly. “ Oh, yes ; it 
is all coming back to me. Lady Barmouth asked Red- 
grave where her brother was, and Redgrave replied that 
he knew nothing about the individual in question. But, 
my dear fellow, you have not proved to me yet that Lady 
Barmouth has a brother.” 

“Now you are puzzling me,” Jack murmured. 

“ Not at all. On the night I speak of, Lady Barmouth 
had to act on the spur of the moment. It was necessary 
to gag a bit to play for an opening. You are taking too 
much for granted. If Lady Barmouth has a brother, you 
will probably find that he has nothing to do with this 


2 4 2 


The Yellow Face 


matter. In any case, why worry about him to-night ? 
We seem to have a big adventure before us so far as I can 
gather from what you have just told me. And if you are 
still in doubt, it will be quite an easy matter to see Lady 
Barmouth in the morning, and ascertain from her whether 
or not our proposed line of action is likely to do any harm. 
I don’t suppose that Lady Barmouth knows or cares any- 
thing for Redgrave, who appears to be a kind of sottish 
tool of Anstruther’s.” 

“ Quite right,” Jack agreed. “And now, come along 
and let us set the ball rolling again. I think that I have 
told you everything. And now we will go off without de- 
lay, and see Seymour — the man I told you about, who was 
with me last night.” 

Rigby assented to the suggestion eagerly enough, and 
together they set out in the direction of Seymour’s rooms. 
There was not much chance of the latter being out, seeing 
that he had his own cogent reasons for not facing the day- 
light, and surely enough it turned out as Masefield had 
expected. 

Seymour was dawdling over his tea with a cigarette and 
a French novel, a bored expression on his face. That face, 
however, became eager and animated as Jack came in and 
introduced Rigby to his host. 

“Things are beginning to move rapidly then,” Sey- 
mour exclaimed. “ Your face speaks of action, Mr. 
Masefield. Is it about Carrington ? You have discovered 
something fresh.” 

“I think I have discovered pretty well everything,” 
Jack replied. “I have managed to force that fellow’s 
hand, just as Rigby suggested I should. He has con- 
sulted Anstruther, as we knew he would ; and a pretty 
scheme for gaining time they evolved between them. But 
perhaps I had better tell you everything.” 

Seymour pitched his French novel aside, and his in- 
telligent face beamed with animation. The story was told 
at length, and Seymour warmly congratulated the speaker 
upon his astuteness and intelligence. 

“ I quite agree with you,” Seymour said. “ If Car- 


In the Vault 


2 43 

rington’s good name is to be saved at all, that bogus 
burglary must take place to-night.” 

“ By the way ! ” Jack exclaimed. “ There is one thing 
I quite forgot to tell you — that is the little adventure I 
had last night at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. I found 
an invalid gentleman there — or, at least, he found me — 
who seems to know all about Anstruther and his move- 
ments. He knows you, too; indeed, he seemed to be 
overjoyed that you are in England. He had some hesita- 
tion in mentioning his own name, but he said that if I gave 
you a certain ring which is now in my possession, you 
would understand everything.” 

Jack laid the ring upon the table, and Seymour pounced 
upon it like a hawk would pounce upon a mouse. A grim 
smile played about the corners of his mouth, but, self- 
controlled as he was, he could not altogether hide his 
feelings. 

“ Tell me all that happened with my friend last 
night,” he asked. “It has an important bearing on this 
case.” 

Jack proceeded to explain, Seymour listening in an 
attitude of rigid attention. 

“ This is the best news I have heard for some time,” he 
said. “You can make your mind quite easy on one thing 
— Anstruther has nearly shot his bolt. After to-morrow I 
will get you to arrange a meeting between myself and my 
old friend at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. Meanwhile, 
there is much to be done. It is quite certain that great 
things are going to happen at the City and Provincial 
Bank to-night. I think we shall have a pleasant little sur- 
prise for Anstruther and Co.” 

Seymour rose, and took a roll of tissue paper from a 
small safe in the corner of the room. 

“ These are the plans of the City and Provincial Bank,” 
he explained — “the plans that came so luckily into our 
hands last night. I have studied them very carefully. 
As a matter of fact, I did not come straight home last 
night, but passed the hours till nearly daylight prowling 
about the bank. Without the plans, my scheme would be 


The Yellow Face 


244 

quite futile ; but I think now that I have the whole thing 
very prettily mapped out. Just come and look at this 
with me. It is really very simple.” 

As Seymour had said, the plan was simplicity itself. It 
not only gave a very intelligent idea of the situation of the 
vaults and strong rooms, but also the back premises and the 
lanes behind were clearly marked. 

“Now I want you to follow this very carefully,” Sey- 
mour went on. “We can ignore the front of the building 
altogether, because that faces on Gresham Street. Here 
the police pass the same premises every three minutes, so 
that nobody could force an entrance that way, not even the 
would-be burglars with their keys. But if you look at the 
rear of the place, you will see that there is a small alley 
leading out of Farringdon Lane, and this alley ends by a 
kind of back entry into the bank which is used by the care- 
taker. I have ascertained that there are two night watch- 
men, so that there is not much danger of trouble. By the 
side of this door is a small window, the latch of which I 
have ascertained to be defective. 

“ I suppose no one has ever troubled to see to this, for 
the simple reason that admission to the bank premises by 
no means implies getting to that part of the building which 
is devoted to business purposes. Not that we particularly 
want to penetrate very far, because it is our scheme to 
watch what is going on, so that we may be able to con- 
front the scoundrels when the proper time comes. A care- 
ful examination of these plans shows me that we shall be 
able to get as far as the bank proper, which means the 
counting house, and from thence down the steps to the 
vaults where the strong rooms are situated.” 

“ Have you got keys of all these? ” Jack asked. 

“There will be no necessity for us to provide keys,” 
Seymour chuckled. “ You see, Anstruther and Co. will 
be bound to enter the bank from the back premises. By 
learning this plan off by heart, we come to know exactly 
which way they will get to the vaults. Of course, they 
will come provided with keys— Carrington will see to that. 
All we have to do is to hide under a counter or something 


In the Vault 


2 45 

of that sort, and wait till our friends come along. Natu- 
rally, they will not dream that any one is on the premises 
besides themselves. As to the rest, you must leave that 
to me and fortune. You had better stay here and dine, 
and we can set out for the City about eleven o’clock.” 

It seemed to both Rigby and Masefield that it would be 
impossible to improve upon this plan. They dined com- 
fortably and discreetly, and it was somewhere about half- 
past eleven when they turned their faces in the direction 
of the City. No one appeared to notice them, for they 
walked rapidly along, with the air of men who had busi- 
ness before them, and the police appeared to be few and 
far between. They came at length to the little alley at 
the rear of the bank, and here it behoved them to be 
cautious. They waited till the beat of the policeman’s 
feet died away down the lane, and then they darted down 
the dark entry. Seymour produced a tiny electric torch 
from his pocket. 

“There is the window,” he whispered. “I am going 
to get on your shoulders, Mr. Rigby. Once I am through, 
I can pull you others up. There is no sort of danger.” 

“Oh, but there is,” Jack protested. “You have 
utterly forgotten one thing— did you not tell me there 
were two night watchmen on the premises ?” 

Seymour chuckled, and was understood to say that 
they would find Anstruther had removed that difficulty for 
them. Seymour seemed so sure of his ground that Jack 
waived his protest. A minute later Seymour was through 
the window, and the others followed swiftly. Rather 
recklessly, or so it seemed to Jack, Seymour waved his 
electric torch so as to form a line of light in front. He 
smiled grimly as he pointed to two unconscious figures 
reclining back as if hopelessly drunk in a pair of deep 
armchairs. They came so suddenly upon the unfortunate 
victims that Jack fairly started. But so far as Seymour 
was concerned, he had appeared to have expected some- 
thing of the kind. He again chuckled hoarsely. 

“What did I tell you?” he asked. “Did I not say 
that Anstruther and Co. would very kindly get the care- 


The Yellow Face 


246 

takers out of the way for us? You see the caretakers 
would have been just as much of a nuisance to them as 
they are to us. They have been carefully hocussed, and 
not until an alarm is given in the morning will they be in 
a position to say anything." 

The last danger being apparently removed, the trio 
proceeded to make their way to the bank premises proper, 
and there made themselves as comfortable as possible 
under one of the counters in the counting house. It was 
very quiet there, so quiet that they could hear the tramp- 
ing footsteps of the police outside, and the singing of 
some belated reveler. They lay there till they heard the 
great clock of St. Paul’s strike the hour of one. There 
was a sound then of heavy footsteps tramping along the 
corridor, and presently a great blaze of light filled the 
counting house. It was perfectly safe, for the heavy iron 
shutters excluded every ray from the outside. Seymour 
rose cautiously, then ducked his head again. 

“Just look," he whispered. “Make sure who it is." 

Rigby raised his head cautiously, too. The light fell 
full upon the face of the intruder — the white, stern face 
of Anstruther. 

“ Now for it,” Seymour whispered ; “the play is about 
to begin." 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE CELLINI PLATE 

So far as Anstruther was concerned, he might have 
been going about his usual business. He evidently had 
no fear on the score of interruption, and, indeed, there 
was little cause, seeing that the bank was so substantially 
built, and that from top to bottom the windows were pro- 
tected with iron shutters. 

“ There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of,” he said. 
“ Good gracious, man, have you no pluck at all? I de- 
clare when I look at you that I could kick you as one does 
a cowardly cur.” 

But Carrington was impervious to insult. His face was 
ghastly, and the strong glare of the electric lights showed 
the beads of moisture upon his forehead. 

“It is all very well for you,” he growled. “The 
greater the danger the better you seem to like it.” 

“There isn’t any danger,” Anstruther protested. 
“ Didn’t you tell me that the police had no special orders 
as far as the bank was concerned ? And everybody knows 
you have two night watchmen. Besides — oh, I have no 
patience with you ! ” 

Anstruther turned away from the other, and began to 
fumble with the lock of a small black bag which he carried 
in his hand. He signified to Carrington that the latter 
should lead the way to the vaults below. Carrington 
produced a bunch of keys from his pocket. Anstruther 
sneered openly. 

“Oh, that’s it,” he said. “Going to make it all 
smooth for us, are you? Of all the fools I ever came 
across ! Why not go outside and tell everybody what we 
are going to do ? Those are all patent shove locks, which 
the most expert thief could never pick, and you are going 
to tell the police later on that they have been opened with 
247 


The Yellow Face 


248 

an ordinary key. Don’t forget that you have got to face 
the police later on, and endure a cross-examination that 
will test your nerve to the uttermost. We are going to 
blow those locks up, and these are dynamite cartridges to 
do it.” 

Carrington’s face was almost comic in its dismay. His 
ghastly, sweat-bedabbled face fairly quivered. But he 
made no further protest; he bent before the sway of 
Anstruther’s master mind. 

“I don’t wish to interfere with you,” he stammered. 
“But the infernal noise which is likely to ” 

Anstruther kicked his companion aside. 

“We either do it or we don’t do it,” he said. “It 
doesn’t matter a rap one way or the other to me. Now 
which is it to be ? ” 

Carrington hesitated no longer. He simply submitted 
himself entirely to the hands of his companion. In a 
dazed, fascinated kind of way he watched Anstruther in- 
sinuate a dynamite cartridge of minute proportions into 
the lock of the door. Then Anstruther drew Carrington 
back as far as possible, and the tiny fuse began to work. 
There was just a tiny spurt of blue flame, followed by a 
muffled shock, and the door fell slowly back. 

“ There,” Anstruther cried triumphantly. “ What do 
you think of that ? Do you suppose that noise was heard 
outside? Now come on ; let us serve them all alike.” 

The sound of their footsteps came to the ears of those 
watching in the counting house, and at frequent intervals 
the sullen explosions could be heard. Seymour rose to 
his feet, and whispered to his companions to follow. They 
crept cautiously along the flagged stairway until they 
reached the vault in which the two strong rooms were 
situated. A couple of electric lights gave sufficient illu- 
mination for the purpose of the amateur burglars, who 
were now busily engaged on the locks of the strong room. 
This was altogether a different business to blowing in the 
lock of an ordinary door, for the entrance to the strong 
room was secured with six bolts, all of which would have 
to be destroyed. 


The Cellini Plate 


249 


It was possible to find a secure hiding-place in the thick 
darkness outside the radius of the two electric lights. It 
was an interesting moment, and even Seymour was con- 
scious of a sensation of excitement. 

“Stand back,” Anstruther said. “Everything is 
ready. You had better lie down on your face, as I am 
using six charges now instead of one. If they all go off 
together the thing will be accomplished to our mutual 
satisfaction.” 

The hint was not lost upon the listeners. There was a 
moment of intense excitement, and then came a dull, 
heavy roar, that seemed to shake the building almost to 
its foundations. Almost before the reverberations had 
died away, the huge door of the strong room swayed with 
a zigzag motion, and came smashing on the floor. 

“There,” Anstruther cried triumphantly. “ What do 
you think of that, my friend ? I flatter myself that that 
is a real workmanlike job. All you have to do now is 
to keep a stiff upper lip, and give the police all the infor- 
mation they require. Anything of value inside? ” 

“Not very much, I am afraid,” Carrington responded. 
“ A fair amount of old family plate, and perhaps twenty 
or thirty thousand pounds’ worth of securities. I suppose 
we had better leave all that there ; look better, don’t you 
think ? ” 

“Leave your head there,” Anstruther sneered. “Now 
I put it to you, as a man supposed to be possessed of 
sense — would any thief leave a single item of value 
behind ? ” 

Anstruther asked the question with a contemptuous 
curl of his lip. He was wiping his hands now on a piece 
of greasy cotton waste in which the dynamite cartridges 
had been wrapped to prevent contact. 

“This is going to be a unique sort of burglary,” he 
continued. “Trot out what you’ve got in the way of 
plate, and I’ll take my pick of it as a kind of fee in reward 
for my night’s service. If there is one soft place in my 
heart, it is for antique silver. Take your time — we are not 
in the least likely to be interrupted.” 


The Yellow Face 


250 

With his coat off and his shirt sleeves turned up, Carring- 
ton set to work in earnest. Once he had plunged head- 
long into the business, he seemed to have lost all his nerv- 
ousness and hesitation. One after the other the great 
wooden cases were turned out and examined by Anstruther 
as eagerly as a schoolboy pores over something new in the 
way of a bird’s nest. Presently he held aloft a magnifi- 
cent specimen of a silver dish. It was perfectly plain : 
fine old hammered silver, bearing a quaint design around 
the edge. 

“Benvenuto Cellini for a million,” he cried. “Dish 
and ewer, together with a set of the finest posset cups I've 
ever seen. How much over ten thousand pounds would 
this fetch at Christie’s ? Well, I’m very sorry for the late 
owner, but exceedingly pleased so far as I am concerned. 
I’ll take this for my fee, Carrington.” 

The two dived into the strong room again, where they 
appeared to be overhauling other boxes of treasure. The 
gleams of the electric light fell upon the service of plate 
which Anstruther had so greatly admired. By its side, in 
strange contrast, laid a piece of cotton waste with which 
Anstruther had wiped his hands a minute or two before. 
Without a word of warning to his companions, Seymour 
darted across the floor of the vault ; and, seizing the cot- 
ton waste, proceeded to rub it vigorously over the surface 
of the service of plate which Anstruther had marked 
down for his own. 

His conduct was so unexpected and so peculiar, that 
Jack and Rigby could only look at one another in astonish- 
ment. They did not know in the least what to make of 
this extraordinary manoeuvre on the part of their colleague. 
But there was evidently much method in his madness ; he 
was not in the least likely to run the risk of detection to 
gratify an apparently meaningless whim. He was back 
again an instant later, and Jack could hear him chuckling 
to himself as if he had accomplished something quite out 
of the common. He seemed to feel that some explanation 
was necessary. 

“ I dare say you thought that peculiar,” he said ; “but 


The Cellini Plate 


251 


you will understand all in good time. I didn’t go out of 
my way to spoil everything for the mere sake of playing 
amateur housemaid.” 

Apparently the task which Anstruther and Carrington 
had set themselves was finished by this time, for they came 
out of the strong room empty handed. All the same, their 
figures appeared to be pretty bulky, and doubtless their 
pockets were well filled with illicit gain. 

“But you don't mean to carry that stuff home,” Car- 
rington protested. “Well known as you are, it would be 
an act of criminal folly to carry that plate through the 
streets at this time of the morning. As to myself ” 

“ But have you no private safe of your own?” An- 
struther asked. “The same remark you made to me just 
now applies to you. Is there anything more to wait 
for?” 

Carrington disappeared within the strong room again for 
a last look round, followed by Anstruther. They had no 
sooner disappeared than Seymour was on his feet again, 
making hurriedly for the stairway leading to the counting 
house. He had not been gone many seconds before there 
came stumbling noisily down the stairs the form of one of 
the night watchmen, rubbing his eyes drowsily, and asking 
what was going on. It was quite evident to Rigby 
and Jack that Seymour had deliberately aroused the 
sleeping man for some subtle purpose of his own. The 
man cried out again to know what all this meant, and 
Carrington and Anstruther came darting from the strong 
room. 

“ By heaven ! He has come to his senses,” Anstruther 
muttered. “ I thought that dose was quite strong enough. 
I am very sorry, but seeing that he has learned so 
much ” 

There was murder in Anstruther’s eyes, and Carrington 
saw it. Still dazed and stupid from the result of the 
drug, the watchman was gazing about him like a man just 
emerging from a heavy bout of intoxication. It was 
evident that he did not recognize his employer, though 
senses and reason were fast coming back to him. As 


The Yellow Face 


252 

he staggered towards the strong room door a murderous 
look crept into Anstruther’s eyes again, and something 
bright gleamed in his hand. Carrington hastened for- 
ward. 

“No. no,” he cried hoarsely. “ I will have none of 
that, i have gone too far already. I could bear with 
imprisonment, but the mere thought of a noose round my 
neck ” 

He almost staggered up to the dazed watchman, and 
shook him violently. The latter seemed to comprehend 
at length. 

“ Wake up, Gregory,” Carrington stammered. “ There 
has been a burglary here. I had occasion to come down 
to the bank for something, and found that the premises 
had been broken into. Go for the police.” 

Anstruther studied the watchman’s features with broody, 
malignant eyes. His quick brain was working rapidly. 
It was quite evident that the watchman had not yet fully 
grasped the situation. It would be some time before he 
could find a policeman and give him a fairly coherent ac- 
count of what had happened. 

“ Not a moment to be lost,” he cried. “ Let us go up- 
stairs at once to your room and lock all this stuff up in 
your private safe. No one will think of looking for it there. 
Now don’t say you haven’t got the key with you.” 

Carrington nodded breathlessly, and immediately An- 
struther began to pack up the Cellini service of plate 
which had so greatly fascinated him. 

“ Come on at once,” he said. “ Let us get this stuff in 
hiding, and then we can face the police.” 

They had only to don their coats again and make their 
way as soon as possible to Carrington’s private room. As 
they passed up the stairs Seymour signed to his companions 
to follow. 

They were only just in time, for as they emerged into 
the alley the watchman was returning with the constable. 
They squeezed close against the wall, securing the friendly 
cover of the darkness, and a moment later they were in 
Gresham Street. 


The Cellini Plate 


2 53 


“ What is to be done next ? ” Rigby said. 

“I think that is pretty obvious,” Seymour chuckled. 
“So far as I can see this is a nice little job for Inspector 
Bates.” 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


A STROKE OF POLICY 

Jack nodded significantly to his companion, as much as 
to signify that Seymour must be allowed to have his own 
way. The latter had taken the matter into his own hands 
from the first. It was quite evident that he was working 
out some deep and subtle scheme, and the others were 
disposed to give him a free hand. 

“ Would you like to see Bates now ? ” Jack asked. 

“Most emphatically not,” Seymour laughed. “It is 
no cue of mine to come in contact with the police until I 
have seen my way quite clear. Besides, you are by no 
means certain yet that Bates will be put on to this case, 
and be given the opportunity of investigating the startling 
burglary at the City and Provincial Bank. Again, it may 
be too much for Bates’s nerves if I burst upon him sud- 
denly, and he recognizes me as the dead Nostalgo who was 
so mysteriously spirited from Shannon Street police station. 
No ; on the whole, I should prefer that you should go and 
see Bates alone. Tell him exactly what happened and 
what you saw to-night, leaving me out of the question. 
Then come and see me some time to-morrow afternoon, 
and I will tell you what to do next.” 

“ One moment,” Rigby exclaimed, as Seymour was 
turning away. “ What was that idea of yours about the 
cotton waste ? ’ ’ 

Seymour winked significantly, and remarked that it was 
time he was in bed. With a cheery nod to his compan- 
ions, he turned his face in an easterly direction and strolled 
off down the street. 

“ Now there’s a clever man for you,” Rigby cried. 
“ Quite as clever a man as Anstruther, and I should say a 
great deal more subtle. But let us go as far as Shannon 
Street police station, and tell Bates our story.” 

254 


A Stroke of Policy 25'j' 

Bates had been detained rather late. He had only just 
come in, and was preparing to go home when the two 
friends entered. He had no need to ask if they had any- 
thing of importance to communicate to him — he could 
glean that from the expression of the friends’ faces. He 
led the way to his private room, and passed the cigarettes 
across the table. 

“ It’s about Carrington,” Rigby explained. “ But per- 
haps I had better go back a bit, and tell you one or two 
little things you don’t know.” 

It was a fairly long story, and it thoroughly aroused 
Bates to a sense of action. His questions were clear and 
intelligent ; he followed the narrative, punctuating it here 
and there with shrewd suggestions. 

“ Mind you,” he said. “I have been expecting some- 
thing like this for a long time. All the same, I can see 
that you gentlemen have only told me half the story. 
Still, I can’t complain, especially as I see my way to make 
a good thing out of this. When I tell the people at Scot- 
land Yard all I know they are pretty sure to put me on the 
case — indeed, I will make a special favor of it. You say 
that you saw Anstruther blowing up all those locks, and 
you are pretty sure that the great bulk of the plunder is in 
Carrington’s private safe. You don’t suggest that An- 
struther carried that service of plate home with him ? ’ ’ 

“ Anstruther wouldn’t be such a fool,” Rigby said 
curtly. “ He is much too cool a hand for that. He will 
feel quite sure that the stuff is perfectly safe where it is, 
and fetch it away from the City a bit at a time. Of 
course, he won’t do this till the affair has blown over and 
he is quite safe in so doing.” 

Bates was inclined to share the speaker’s opinion. 
There was no more to be said for the present, and he inti- 
mated his intention to go up to Scotland Yard and ask the 
authorities to put him on the case. Jack and Rigby went 
their respective ways, a clock somewhere striking two 
when they parted at length. 

Precisely as Bates had prophesied, the mysterious bur- 
glary at the City and Provincial Bank caused the greatest 


The Yellow Face 


256 

sensation the following morning. The later editions of the 
evening papers were full of it. Carrington had been inter- 
viewed by more than one bright reporter ; indeed, he had 
been dragged out of bed for the purpose, and he had been 
understood to say that the bank’s loss could not fall far 
short of a million unless the thieves could be promptly ar- 
rested. The story was vividly told, Carrington’s distress 
and agitation being expressly accentuated. 

But this was not the worst part of the distracted 
bank manager’s story. There had been in the possession 
of the bank a tremendous lot of valuable personal property 
belonging to various esteemed clients. All this had dis- 
appeared, and more than one great lady in London was 
mourning the loss of her family jewels. The greatest 
sympathy was felt with the bank ; it was only one or two 
carping critics who were asking questions. 

They were pertinent questions, too ; a desire, for in- 
stance, to know what Carrington could possibly be doing 
on the bank premises at so late an hour. But these were 
merely pin pricks, and the great bulk of the population 
felt nothing but sympathy for Carrington. The only 
people who had a fairly good grip of the real state of the 
case besides Rigby and his companions were the Bar- 
mouths and Claire Helmsley. Jack saw Claire in Lady 
Barmouth’s drawing-room late the following morning, and 
explained to her and Lady Barmouth what had happened 
the night previous. 

“ It is most mysterious,” Claire said, “and almost im- 
possible to believe that my guardian had anything to do 
with the matter. I dined very quietly at home last night, 
and sat up till long past one finishing a novel in which I 
was deeply interested. I can assure you of this — that from 
half-past nine till the time I went to bed Mr. Anstruther’s 
violin practically did not cease. If I were brought into 
the case as a witness, I should be bound to swear that my 
guardian was in his study during the whole time that the 
burglary was taking place.” 

“ That is another phase of the mystery that we have to 
solve,” Jack said. “It is all very clever and very in- 


2 57 


A Stroke of Policy 

genious and very useful, but seeing is believing. After 
all, Anstruther was there last night, as three of us are pre- 
pared to testify. * * 

“ Then in that case I shall never see my jewels again,” 
Lady Barmouth said. “ But what are the police going to 
do about it, Mr. Masefield ? The thing cannot be pos- 
sibly allowed to remain here. If they were to arrest Mr. 
Carrington at once and search his safe ’ ’ 

“But the police don’t work quite in that way,” Jack 
interrupted. “ Besides, Carrington is not the only one. 
The chief villain in the play is Spencer Anstruther ; and at 
the present moment he is in a position to prove a perfect 
alibi. It is not the slightest use laying Carrington by the 
heels till we are in a position to prove Anstruther’s alibi to 
be nothing but an ingenious mechanical fraud. Don’t you 
recollect the case of the Phoenix Park murders ? In that 
case the police could have laid their hands upon half the 
culprits within a few days. They preferred to wait months, 
until every one of the gang were swept up in the meshes 
of the law. I will go and see Bates presently, and ascer- 
tain if he has anything fresh to tell us.” 

It was quite late in the afternoon before Jack managed 
to get a few words with the inspector. He seemed to be 
very cheerful and sanguine, and dropped a hint to the 
effect that his morning had not been altogether wasted. 

“ Oh, we are going on, right enough,” he exclaimed in 
answer to Jack’s question. “ In the circumstances, they 
can do nothing else. Most of my morning has been spent 
in calling on the various unfortunate people whose val- 
uables were deposited at Carrington’s bank, and getting a 
full description of the same. After that I made the rounds 
of the principal pawnbrokers and such people as advance 
money on real property.” 

“Did you find anything of the missing stuff ? ” Jack 
asked eagerly. “ I mean, did you see any of it ? ” 

Bates explained that up to now he had been successful 
in three instances. He knew where to lay his hands upon 
the tiara of diamonds that had only been deposited with 
Carrington four days ago. 


2 5 8 


The Yellow Face 


“ It belongs to one of our fashionable society leaders/* 
he explained, “and really is a most magnificent piece of 
work. Mind you, Carrington must have been a great fool, 
or he must have been desperately pressed for money, to 
pledge these things in London. He could have sent them 
to Amsterdam or Paris, where they could have been broken 
up and disposed of in such a manner that it would have 
been impossible to trace them. This might have entailed 
a financial sacrifice, but see how safe it would have been. 
I feel pretty sure that within the next two days I shall 
trace every atom of the lost property.” 

“ But it is usual to pledge such valuable jewels in this 
casual way? ” Jack asked. 

“Certainly it is. The thing has been done over and 
over again. In a great many instances the lady does not 
go through the ordeal herself, but sends a maid or some 
confidential servant with a note addressed to the pawn- 
broker, and asks for ten thousand pounds, or whatever it 
may be. That is how this business has been worked.” 

“But the pawnbrokers?” Jack protested. “When 
they come to see a list of the missing jewels a full story 
must be told.” 

Bates admitted the ingenuity of the suggestion. It was 
just possible that there was danger in that direction. Still, 
as he pointed out, no one could blame the pawnbrokers 
for not recognizing from a bald printed description certain 
gems pledged at their establishments. 

“But I think you can leave that safely to me,” he said. 
“ There is nothing to prevent me from applying for a war- 
rant for the arrest of Carrington, and producing all that 
damning evidence from his private safe ; but by doing this 
we are practically allowing a greater ruffian to escape.” 

Jack cordially agreed with this view of the case. He 
proceeded to speak at some length as to what he had seen 
and heard the night before last in Carrington’s smoking- 
room. 

“You must not forget,” he said, “ that the man who 
was with me on that occasion is in possession of the du- 
plicate plans of the bank cellars.” 


A Stroke ol Policy 259 

“ Oh, no,” Bates cried. “ I have not overlooked those 
plans ; in fact, I particularly wish to have a glance at 
them. And, by the way, sir, you appear to be very reti- 
cent over the name of the companion who was with you on 
that important occasion.” 

“ We will merely call him Seymour,” Jack said, cau- 
tiously. 

Bates smiled in a queer, significant kind of way. 

“ I will be more candid with you than you are with 
me,” he said, “ though you have told me more than you 
intended. Now, tell me if my suspicions are correct — is 
not this ‘ Seymour ’ and our missing Nostalgo one and 
the same person ? It is a mere deduction on my part, 
but ” 

“ I suppose I had better admit it at once,” Jack said. 
‘‘Besides, you are bound to know sooner or later. Why 
not come with me and see Mr. Seymour now? ” 

Bates replied that he would be only too delighted. They 
set off together without delay, and presently found them- 
selves at Seymour’s residence. The latter was doing 
something mysterious with a file and a pair of handcuffs, 
both of which he threw aside as his visitors entered. He 
extended his hand cordially to Bates. 

“ I am not in the least surprised to see you, inspector,” 
he said. “ In fact, I rather wanted to do so. Now, 
frankly speaking, are you not a little puzzled to know how 
to lay Anstruther by the heels ? ” 

“ We will come to that presently, sir,” Bates said 
quietly. “ I shall be glad in the first place to know what 
hold Anstruther has on you gentlemen who have so suf- 
fered at his hands. Anstruther is a blackmailer, I know. 
But you are a man of pluck and courage — why can’t you 
fight him in the open? I can quite understand that there 
are others broken in health and spirit, who dare not have 
their story told and dragged before the diabolical curiosity 
of the cheap press. But in your case, why, it seems to 


“Yes, yes,” Seymour interrupted. “ But suppose you 
have a dear friend in whom you are interested ? And 


26 o 


The Yellow Face 


that friend had done somebody a great wrong ? And sup- 
posing that Anstruther knew all this ? My friend is poor, 
but I am not. Let us go farther and grant my friend a 
daughter — a beautiful girl who is just coming to the front 
in the world of art. She is passionately attached to her 
father ; any disgrace to him would break her heart. And 
it is in my power to save this dear child by letting An- 
struther believe that both myself and others who have suf- 
fered are afraid of him. Surely you have heard of many 
such cases, Mr. Bates ? ” 

Bates nodded. The field was clearing wonderfully. 

“You will pardon me,” he said. “It was stupid of 
me not to think of that before. The blackmailer generally 
strikes through the innocent. But another question. 
Why did Anstruther publish those Nostalgo posters at all ? ” 

“There, to t certain extent, you have me,” Seymour 
confessed. “You see, it is only recently that we Nos- 
talgos have drifted together in London. We must give 
Anstruther credit for having discovered this. Mind you, 
there may be many others who have suffered, and are now 
hiding in silence. They would be nerveless wrecks for 
the most part. Anstruther probably wanted to let them 
know that the terror was not dead. You see, it is like the 
sign of some secret society, reminding members of the long 
arm. But who can say what was uppermost in the mind 
of Anstruther ? Suppose that the whole dramatic thing 
had failed in its purpose? What then ? Why, Anstruther 
would have probably turned the posters to some business 
purpose — a new soap, a novel kind of pill — why, many 
business houses would gladly buy the reversion of the 
Nostalgo posters, and make a good thing out of them. I 
may be wrong, but that is my view. Besides, how are we 
to know how many other Nostalgos have not dropped into 
Anstruther’s net through those diabolical posters? ” 

“ It is possible you are right,” Bates admitted. “ Noth- 
ing seems to be impossible in the way of crime. But as 
to Anstruther ? ” 

“I have a heavy debt to pay to him,” Seymour said, 
with a ring in his voice. “And I am in a position to 


A Stroke of Policy 261 

show you how you can lay him by the heels. I presume 
my friend Masefield has told you everything. That being 
so, all you have to do is to open Carrington’s private safe, 
and carefully remove a service of Cellini plate which you 
will find there. When I say carefully, I mean carefully — 
the thing is not to be fingered. Take it away to the police 
station, and place it in your glass case. Then, if you fol- 
low my advice, within eight and forty hours I pledge you 
that you shall have evidence against Anstruther as clear 
and convincing as if it had come from heaven itself. ’ ’ 

A silence followed, so impressive was Seymour’s speech. 
Then Bates, who appeared to be utterly puzzled, promised 
that the thing should be done. At the same moment, 
there was the sound of an altercation on the outer landing, 
and a hoarse voice was heard asking some imperative ques- 
tion. The voice struck familiarly on Jack’s ears. He 
glanced significantly at Bates. 

“ The very man himself,” he cried. 

“Yes, Anstruther,” Seymour said, in his deep, ringing 
voice. “ Friend Anstruther. Shall we ask him in ? ” 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


A PREGNANT MESSAGE 

There was no mistaking the fact that it was Anstruther 
who was standing outside and speaking in tones which de- 
noted that he was not altogether pleased with himself. It 
might have been a coincidence, or, at the same time, it 
might have been intentional ; though the latter suggestion 
did not appear probable. 

“ Surely he can’t have found us out yet,” Jack cried. 
“If he had done so it would hardly be policy to make so 
much noise about it. What do you think, Mr. Bates?” 

Bates responded cautiously that he did not know what 
to think. The real solution came from Seymour. 

“There is no coincidence about it at all,” he said. 
“We know perfectly well that Anstruther is a clever 
criminal, but even clever criminals cannot bring off im- 
portant campaigns without the aid of subordinates. I 
have not taken up my quarters here entirely by accident, 
though, of course, it was necessary for me to be as far off 
the beaten track as possible. I have seen Anstruther here 
on more than one occasion, and I think you will find he 
has come to consult one of his satellites.” 

“ There must be a good few shady people here,” Bates 
observed, “ though I don’t know much about the lo- 
cality.” 

Seymour explained that there were plenty of doubtful 
characters living in the tenement. He suspected at least 
three burglars who had rooms on the same floor. Prob- 
ably Anstruther was looking for one of these, and for some 
reason or other the fellow had denied himself. The loud 
tones had ceased now, and it was evident that Anstruther 
had either left the house or found the man of whom he was 
in search. The discovery, however, was too important to 
be allowed to rest like that, and Bates had a proposition to 

262 


A Pregnant Message 263 

make. He suggested the advisability of putting one of his 
own spies on to watch Anstruther and keep an eye upon 
him for the rest of the day. There would not be the 
slightest uncertainty about this, seeing that Anstruther was 
so well known to the police generally. 

Bates crept carefully away, and returned presently 
with the information that Anstruther was still on the 
premises. 

“ I met one of my men in the street,” he explained. 
“ He was just back from a job this way, and spotted 
Anstruther coming in here. Our friend is not likely to 
shake off the fellow that I have put upon his track. Mean- 
while, we are wasting time here.” 

Seymour was decidedly of the same opinion. A minute 
or two later the trio made their way into the street, leaving 
Seymour alone. He had been informed by Bates that he 
would be kept posted of Anstruther’s movements by means 
of special messenger, and that his services would be called 
upon if necessary. Thus assured, Seymour went back to 
his mysterious business with the handcuffs and file, quite 
content to wait till his time came. 

It was quite dark before the first message arrived. 
Anstruther had stayed where he was till seven o’clock, 
after which he had gone out and called at a neighboring 
shop, which was kept by a man engaged in the occupation 
of making brass plates. This, so the message said, was 
merely a blind for the manufacture of the finest specimens 
of burglars’ tools. Anstruther had entered the shop with 
nothing in his hand, but had emerged presently carrying 
a small square parcel which might have been a picture 
frame. Thus encumbered, he had returned to the tene- 
ment, and was now closeted in the set of rooms below 
Seymour’s with a man called Gillmore, otherwise “Simple 
Charlie,” a cracksman who stood quite at the head of his 
profession. 

Seymour’s eyes gleamed as he glanced over the letter. 
He felt that he must be up and doing something. It 
occurred to him as a good idea to make an attempt to be 
present at the interview between Anstruther and his com- 


The Yellow Face 


264 

federate. It was absolutely dark now, so that Seymour 
had 110 hesitation in raising his sitting-room window, which 
faced the back of the house, and seeking to find some 
means for entering the set of rooms below. 

So far as he could see at first, the thing appeared to be 
impossible. His quick eye noted the fact that a powerful 
light burned in the room below, for the shadow of it was 
thrown strongly upon the blank wall opposite. To the left 
of Seymour’s window was a large drain pipe used for con- 
veying the rain water from the roof to the sewer below. It 
was an easy matter for Seymour to lash a rope firmly to the 
floor with the aid of a handspike, and to gently lower him- 
self to the floor below by means of the pipe. The business 
was no easy one when it came to climbing proper, and only 
a strong man like Seymour could have possibly done it. 
He dangled thus perilously in mid air, working his way 
down inch by inch, till at length his feet rested on the sill 
of the window below. 

As he had half expected, the window was without a 
catch, which was quite in accordance with most of the 
fittings in the tenement. Leaving his rope to dangle 
harmlessly within reach until it would be required again, 
Seymour passed coolly into the room. He rubbed a match 
cautiously, and by the aid of it saw that he was in a small 
bedroom evidently devoted to the uses of some bachelor, 
for the bed had been made in a most perfunctory way, and 
the floor was liberally strewn with tobacco ash. Lying 
on the table was a plan of some large mansion, with foot- 
notes here and there plainly denoting the fact that the 
house had been marked down for some ingenious burglary. 
Seymour smiled to himself. 

He had evidently found his way into the quarters of 
which he was in search. Listening intently, with his ear 
closely glued against the wall, he could detect the sound 
of voices on the other side. He was not personally ac- 
quainted with the voice of “Simple Charlie,” but the 
round, full tones of Anstruther were quite familiar to him. 

Seymour was, however, not content merely to listen to 
what was going on. Very softly he made his way from 


A Pregnant Message 265 

the bedroom into the passage beyond. The door of the 
next room was not closed ; indeed, there was no reason for 
the precaution, seeing that the door at the end of the 
passage was locked. There was a pungent smell of 
tobacco, mingled with the odor of a good cigar, and pres- 
ently the loud pop of a cork and the fizzing gurgle of what 
Seymour rightly guessed to be champagne. By creeping 
close and twisting a little sideways, Seymour got a fairly 
good view of the room. 

He could see Anstruther lounging in a comfortable arm- 
chair, a cigar in his mouth, apparently quite at home in his 
humble surroundings. The other man was sucking moodily 
at a short pipe, and glanced uneasily at his companion. 
He was not much like the commonly accepted type of 
burglar, being slight and dark, and somewhat timid-looking 
in appearance. But every now and again the glance he 
turned upon Anstruther was positively murderous in its 
hateful intensity. 

“ Now, what on earth are you driving at, guv’nor ? ” he 
growled. “ No getting at the bottom of you. I never feel 
like a fool except when I am working for you.” 

“ That, my good Charles,” Anstruther said smoothly, 
“ is where education comes in. If you had had my ad- 
vantages you might have stood very high indeed. As it 
is, you are an exceedingly good workman, and I, though 
I say it that should not, am a very good master. I sup- 
pose you know perfectly well that I am in a position to 
give you away at any moment. I could hand you over to 
the police, who would take very good care of you for the 
next fourteen years, and you could not give me a simple 
scratch in return. For instance, we will suppose it is my 
whim to identify you with that bank burglary last night. 
Of course, you were not there, but I could prove that you 
were, all the same. And no cleverness of yours could save 
you from a conviction.” 

Gillmore wriggled uneasily on his chair. His eyes fol- 
lowed Anstruther’s every movement like those of a dog 
severely punished ; there was a suggestion of the hound 
that would have bitten his master if he dared. 


266 


The Yellow Face 


“I know all about that,” he grunted. “And you 
know I’ve got to do everything you ask me. It only 
seems the other day that poor Brown defied you to do your 
worst and lost his life over it. That was a lesson to me. 
Not but what I wouldn’t be ready and willing to knife you 
if I thought it was safe. I am pretty bad, and so are some 
of the others ; but outside of hell itself there is no black- 
hearted scoundrel as bad as you.” 

The man’s voice fairly vibrated with passion ; but 
Anstruther lounged back in his chair with the air of a man 
who has just received a high compliment. He was a man 
who loved power. He liked to feel that he could pull the 
strings and move the actions of other men even when they 
fought desperately against his iron determination. 

“All this is so much waste of time,” he said. “ I came 
here to-night to get you to do something for me, and you 
will have to do it, whether you want to or not. You know 
what disobedience means — three hours’ freedom, and four- 
teen years in jail. No more of your confounded non- 
sense ; listen to what I have to say.” 

“ Oh, I’ll do it right enough,” Gillmore growled. 
“ Mind you, it’s a pretty big risk. The police have got an 
idea that I was engaged in that Maidenhead business. I 
know they’ve been watching me so close that I can’t get 
rid of a bit of stuff, and 1 have come down to my last 
half-sov.” 

“I’ll see to that,” Anstruther replied. “What you 
have to do now is to make your way into the Great Metro- 
politan Hotel. You shall come with me presently, and I 
will show you the room I want you to enter. To a man 
of your ability the thing is ridiculously simple — quiet side 
entrance, iron fire-escape ladder, and all the rest of it. 
All you want is a few tools.” 

“But I haven’t got any,” Gillmore protested. “ I was 
glad enough to get away from that Maidenhead business 
with a whole skin.” 

Anstruther pointed significantly to the flat brown paper 
parcel which he had brought in with him. 

“You will find everything you want there,” he said. 


A Pregnant Message 267 

“ All you have to remember is this. You are to go up 
the ladder and make your way to the door at the head of 
the second corridor. A row of bedrooms runs along the 
corridor, and the room you have to enter is No. 16. That 
is a sitting-room attached to one of the bedrooms. I don't 
want you to do anything neat in the way of a burglary ; 
you have simply to take a letter which I will give you and 
leave it on the table in the sitting-room. I want the whole 
thing to be absolutely mysterious, and here is a five-pound 
note for your trouble. And now I am going out, and you 
are to follow me. I will lead you directly to the quiet spot 
at the rear of the hotel, and the rest you must do for your- 
self. I don’t think there is anything more for me to say.” 

Gillmore nodded in a surly sort of fashion. He was 
terribly afraid of Anstruther, who used all his creatures 
like puppets, and never afforded them the slightest informa- 
tion. His power was all the greater for this ; he knew that 
he was hated as much as he was feared. He put on his 
hat and coat now, and Gillmore rose also. Seymour 
darted away back through the bedroom and on to the 
window ledge again. It struck him as just possible that 
Gillmore might want to use his bedroom, in which case the 
chances of being discovered were great. But Seymour 
made his way back again to his own sitting-room. Once 
there he lighted a cigarette and sat down to think over the 
situation. 

It was not long before he had made up his mind what 
to do. 

Evidently there was no great hurry over the little scheme 
which Anstruther had planned in connection with the 
Great Metropolitan Hotel, and doubtless an hour or two 
would elapse before Gillmore found his way into the cor- 
ridor. It would not be prudent to carry out the plan 
until the hotel was getting fairly quiet, so that Seymour 
had plenty of scope for a counter stroke. 

He spent the next hour or so in his bedroom intent 
upon some sort of disguise. Something in the way of 
a mask, accompanied with side whiskers and a pair of 
spectacles, changed him beyond recognition. A little 


268 


The Yellow Face 


while later, and he found himself engaging a room at the 
Great Metropolitan. He appeared to be rather particular 
about his choice, and finally decided that No. 18 would 
suit his requirements. As he had expected, No. 18 was 
exactly opposite the room chosen by Anstruther for Gill- 
more’s little plot. Once this was settled, it seemed to 
Seymour that there was no occasion for hurry. It was 
eleven o’clock before he made his way up to his bedroom. 
He did not close the door, nor did he turn the light on. 
He sat down grimly and patiently in the darkness to await 
developments. 

The corridor was perfectly silent now, and either the 
occupants of the hotel had retired to rest, or had not yet 
returned from the theatre. This was the time, Seymour 
felt pretty certain, that Gillmore would set to work. 
With his room door ajar, Seymour had a perfect view of 
the room on the other side of the corridor. It seemed to 
him that he could hear somebody now coming stealthily 
down the passage. Then another sound grated on his ear 
— it was an unmistakable cry of pain and fear from the 
room opposite. 

Seymour crossed the corridor and coolly entered the 
room opposite. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


THE CRY IN THE NIGHT 

There was a man in the room surely enough. He was 
but half dressed; he had fallen forward over a table, 
apparently in a state of collapse. He seemed to be seek- 
ing something ; and then Seymour saw that he was clutch- 
ing at a bottle of brandy, of which he appeared to be in 
evident need. There was no suggestion of intoxication 
about him, so that Seymour had no hesitation in forcing 
a few drops of the potent fluid between the man’s pallid 
lips. 

Strange as the situation was, Seymour did not fail to 
notice the extraordinary way in which his companion’s 
face was cut and scarred and bound with sticking plaster. 
Then he suddenly realized to whose assistance he had 
come. This was surely the man Jack Masefield had told 
him about — the man who had sent him the ring, and who 
knew the whole history of the Nostalgo business. The 
invalid opened his eyes presently, and gazed in a dull kind 
of way at Seymour. 

“ I have been ill,” he said. “ Since my operation I 
have been accustomed to these kind of fainting fits. It 
was very good of you to come to my assistance.” 

“Not at all,” Seymour said. “I was in my room on 
the other side of the corridor, and I heard you cry out. 
Is there anything more I can do for you ? ” 

“Yes,” the stranger said. There was a strange thrill 
in his voice. “ Take off that mask of yours, and let me 
see my old friend Seymour once more. I should have 
recognized your tones anywhere.” 

“ I am glad that my old chum Ferris should recognize 
me,” Seymour said, in a voice that trembled a little. 
“But I dare say that you will wonder why I am here. I 
can assure you it is no coincidence. But what have you 

269 


270 


The Yellow Face 


been doing to your face ? The last time I saw you you 
were what I am now.” 

With a bitter laugh Seymour swept his disguise away, 
and the hideous likeness to Nostalgo stood confessed. 

“ There is a picture for you,” Seymour laughed ; “and 
upon my word you are not much better. Are you attempt- 
ing to get rid of those damning marks that you and I are 
meant to carry to the grave — those marks of a scoundrel’s 
vengeance? ” 

“But I shall not carry them to the grave,” Ferris said. 
“My dear friend, if I had the pluck and courage you 
yourself possess, I should not have cared so much. But 
that scoundrel Anstruther haunts me like my own shadow. 
I managed to elude his search ; I hid myself in London. 
He knew I was here somewhere, and he hit upon that 
devilish scheme for preying on my imagination. I am 
alluding to those Nostalgo posters. Most people regard 
them as no better than an ingenious advertisement, but 
the scalding truth is known to me. They meet my eye 
whenever I take my secret walks abroad ; they deface the 
hoardings to remind me that I am still Anstruther’s 
slave. * ’ 

The speaker wiped his heated face. He made a more 
or less successful attempt to hide his deep feelings. 

“ I had almost lost hope,” he continued. “ I had made 
up my mind to be blackmailed to my last farthing by An- 
struther, when fortune brought me in contact with a clever 
French doctor who had heard something of the vengeance 
of the Nostalgos. He assured me that he had treated one 
of us with absolute success. I found out that my young 
friend was a brilliantly clever surgeon, and after a little 
natural hesitation I decided to place myself in his hands. 
He operated upon the muscles of my face with a view to 
removing the hideous mask which disfigures what was 
once a passably good-looking face. The shock to my sys- 
tem was great, and I am but slowly recovering. But when 
I do recover, I feel quite certain that I shall be as I was 
before I fell into the hands of Anstruther’s creatures in 
Mexico. I am a pretty sight now, I admit ; but if you 


The Cry in the Night 271 

look at me you will see that the repulsive hideousness has 
gone.” 

Seymour gazed long and thoughtfully into the white 
face of his companion. There was a sudden uplifting 
of his heart, and the tears rushed to his eyes. It was no 
ordinary weakness that moved him like this. 

“I see, I see,” he murmured. “Once you are yourself 
again, you can defy Anstruther; indeed, he would not 
know you at all. I have had to fight him at a terrible 
disadvantage. If only I could remove this terrible scourge 
from my face — then I could stand up to him, and his reign 
would not be for long. But events are pressing so fast 
that I could not possibly spare the time at present to fol- 
low out the treatment to which you have been subjected. 
But afterwards I shall be only too glad to place myself in 
the same hands that you have been through. The mere 
thought that some day or other I shall be able to walk the 
streets like any other man that God has made, fills me 
with such a joy that I could sit down and cry like a 
child. 

“But why be so fearfully afraid of Anstruther?” Sey- 
mour asked. 

“Because I am in his power,” Ferris whispered. “I 
have done a great wrong in my time, and Anstruther 
knows it. That fiend seems to discover everything. For- 
tune has enabled me to redress the wrong, but Anstruther 
holds the proofs of my guilt. I really ought to have gone 
to my relatives and confessed everything, and defied him. 
But with a face like mine ! ” 

“I understand,” Seymour said grimly. “But, unless 
I am greatly mistaken ” 

Seymour broke off suddenly, and snapped out the elec- 
tric light. He took the astonished Ferris by the arm, and 
fairly bundled him into his bedroom. There was no time 
to explain. A fresh idea had suddenly come to Seymour, 
and he decided to put it through. His quick ear had told 
him that somebody was fumbling at the door of the sitting- 
room, and that somebody could be none other than Gill- 
more. The burglar had evidently not yet arrived, or Sey- 


272 


The Yellow Face 


mour would have heard something of the mysterious note. 
His idea now was to gain possession of the note and Gill- 
more at the same time. 

“ What on earth is the matter?” Ferris whispered. 

Seymour clicked his lips for silence. He could hear 
Gillmore in the sitting-room by now. He slipped from 
the bedroom into the corridor, and approached his foe by 
the other door. But apparently Gillmore’ s ears were as 
quick as those of his antagonist. He pitched the letter 
on the table, and, seeing that escape by way of the door 
had been cut off, coolly flung up the window and fell 
headlong out. Seymour repressed a shuddering cry. 
Gillmore evidently cruelly miscalculated the distance to 
the ground, for as Seymour looked out of the window he 
could hear a series of heavy groans below. It was obvi- 
ously his duty to give the alarm and send for a doctor with- 
out delay, but this he hesitated to do. 

Fie called Ferris in, and explained rapidly to him what 
had happened. The distance from the window to the 
ground was some twenty feet. 

“I am going to fetch him up,” Seymour explained. 
“ I suppose you have got one of our old lassos amongst 
your baggage? You have? Good! Let me have it at 
once, and I will drag our friend up in here, and then we 
can send for that doctor of yours. This unfortunate rascal 
is a mere tool of Anstruther’s. and I want to make use of 
him.” 

The lasso was procured at length, and one end twisted 
round the leg of Ferris’s bed. It was not an easy job that 
Seymour had set for himself, but he managed it at length, 
and, quite overcome with his exertions, laid the body of 
Gillmore on the couch. The latter was quite conscious, 
and apparently not nearly so much damaged as might 
have been expected. Seymour went over him with the 
practiced hand of one who has dealt with many accidents 
by flood and field. He smiled more cheerfully. 

“Not so bad as I expected,” he said. “A broken 
collar bone and a dislocated ankle. You have had a very 
narrow escape, Mr. Gillmore. It will be just as well, per- 


The Cry in the Night 273 

haps, if you moisten your lips with a drop of this excellent 
■brandy.” 

Giilmore started at the mention of his name, but he did 
not refuse the proffered stimulant. He saw that he had 
been caught like a rat in a trap, and, like most of his 
tribe, was prepared to make the best terms he could for 
himself, regardless of his confederates. 

“ You might just as well make a clean breast of it,” 
Seymour said. “You came here at the instigation of 
Mr. Anstruther. Your task was an easy one for a man of 
your abilities, but you see I happened to know that you 
were coming, and that made all the difference. Is that 
the letter on the table ? ” 

Giilmore growled out something to the effect that it was. 
Ferris took up the letter, and read it carefully. 

“Just as I expected,” he murmured to Seymour. “A 
mysterious communication from Anstruther, only An- 
struther’s name does not appear upon it. I am threatened 
with all kinds of pains and penalties if I do not immedi- 
ately part with the sum of five thousand pounds. And 
you might tell me what you propose to do with this man.” 

“Leave him here for the present,” Seymour explained. 
“We can take your doctor into our confidence, and 
nobody will be any the wiser. It is a very odd thing to 
me if we don’t get some valuable information out of this 
Giilmore. You may be certain of one thing — he could 
tell us a great deal about Anstruther if he chose to speak. 
If you will give me the address of your doctor, I will go off 
and fetch him at once. Of course, I shall bring him here 
as if he came to see you. I think you are quite safe with 
the fellow.” 

Seymour went off presently, having donned his disguise 
again, feeling that he had done a good night’s work. His 
first act was to telephone to Bates at Shannon Street police 
station, and ask if the latter was still keeping an eye on An- 
struther. Bates replied in person to the effect that every- 
thing possible had been done in that direction. Anstruther 
returned home about ten o’clock, and at present was amus- 
ing himself with his violin in his own study. Bates, more- 


274 


The Yellow Face 


over, had ascertained that Anstruther had no intention of 
leaving the house again that night ; in fact, he had told 
one of his servants that he had caught a chill, from all of 
which it might be gathered that Bates’s spy had been very 
successful in his shadowing of Anstruther. 

So far, everything was quite satisfactory. It only re- 
mained now to call at Masefield’s rooms, and acquaint him 
with what had happened. But Jack was not in, his land- 
lady informed Seymour ; as a matter of fact, she had no 
idea when he was coming back ; indeed, he had gone off 
somewhere to a fancy dress ball. It was then that Sey- 
mour recollected that this was the night of Lady Bar- 
mouth’s great dance. A little at a loss to know what to 
do next, Seymour went slowly off in the direction of 
Pan ton Square. He hung about Anstruther’ s house for 
some little time, still feeling dubious in his mind as to 
whether the latter was really going out or not. He waited 
long enough to see a carriage drive up to the door, and in 
the brilliantly-lighted hall he could see a graceful figure in 
fancy dress being carefully wrapped up by Anstruther him- 
self, who came down the steps, and saw Claire into the 
carriage. He appeared to be carefully muffled, and spoke 
with a strained voice of one who suffers from a bad cold. 

“I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear,” he said. 
ft Pray convey to Lady Barmouth my sincere regrets and 
apologies. In the circumstances I am sure she will excuse 
me.” 

The carriage drove off, but still Seymour lingered there, 
feeling quite sure that this was part of some scheme of 
Anstruther’ s. He decided to wait, at any rate, for the 
present, and for the best part of an hour he paced up and 
down, till at length his search was rewarded. The light 
in the study suddenly went out, though Seymour could 
hear the music still going on, and then another figure 
emerged from a porch. It was the figure of a man as- 
suredly decked out in some fancy dress ; but Seymour was 
not in the least deceived, and knew perfectly well that he 
was following Anstruther. 

The latter walked right away until he came at length to 


The Cry in the Night 275 

Belgrave Square, where he stopped for an instant before a 
house in front of which a scarlet cloth crossed the pave- 
ment. Into this hall of dazzling light the form of An- 
struther vanished. Just as Seymour had expected, his 
quarry was going to the masked dance after all. He made 
up his mind instantly what to do. He accosted one of 
the footmen standing inside the hall, and, pressing a coin 
in his hand, said he must see Mr. Masefield at once. 
Would the footman gc up-stairs and announce that Mr. 
Masefield was wanted, in a loud voice ? The coin had the 
desired effect, and a moment later Jack was in the hall. 
He strolled up to Seymour in a casual way, and demanded 
haughtily the reason for this intrusion. 

“You did that very well,” Seymour whispered. “I 
came to tell you that Anstruther is here after all ; in fact, 
he has just come in. Now I have a little scheme of my 
own. Go and tell Lord Barmouth that I am here, but that 
I should like to appear as a guest. I don’t think that he 
would mind, at any rate ” 

“Not he,” Jack whispered, excitedly. “Really, there 
is no reason for me to do anything of the sort. I can 
easily tell Barmouth afterwards, and if you have any 
scheme for getting the best of Anstruther, you will be a 
welcome guest in this house.” 

“Good!” Seymour replied. “I will go off to a cos- 
tumier’s at once, get fitted with a dress, and be back here 
in half-an-hour. Then I shall pretend that I have left my 
card behind, and ask for Mr. Rigby. Just as well not to 
ask for you again.” 

Jack nodded his emphatic approval. Seymour moved 
towards the door with a deferential air of one who apolo- 
gizes for an unwarrantable intrusion. Once in the road 
he hailed a passing cab, and gave him the costumier’s ad- 
dress. 

“Wellington Street,” he said curtly; “and drive as. 
quick as you can.” 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


PREPARING THE WAY 

Seymour was not away longer than he had anticipated. 
Only thirty -five minutes had elapsed before a cab drove up 
to the house in Belgrave Square, from which descended a 
tall man guised as a magician. It was not a particularly 
original dress, but it thoroughly served the purpose which 
Seymour had in hand. He wore a long red cloak, coming 
down to his heels, the hem of which was embroidered with 
queer signs and symbols. On his head was a black vel- 
vet skull cap, and a long white beard and moustache com- 
pleted the illusion. 

Seymour stood still for a moment, and fumbled about as 
if to find his card. Then Rigby, effectively disguised as 
an executioner, came forward and proffered his services. 

“ It’s all right,” he whispered. “ I have been talking 
it over with Masefield, and he did not think it would be 
prudent to meet you here a second time. Besides, we have 
to be very careful ; we are not aware how much Anstruther 
knows. He might have got to the back of our plot for all 
we know to the contrary.” 

“ I did not quite catch how he was dressed,” Seymour 
said. “ Would you mind telling me what he is wearing? ” 

Rigby proceeded to explain that Anstruther was rigged 
out in a costume of some Indian tribe. He could be es- 
pecially noticed by the exceedingly high plume of eagle’s 
feathers which he was wearing in his headdress. Sey- 
mour chuckled aloud. 

“ I thought it all out as I came along,” he said. 
u When 1 saw Masefield a little time ago I only wanted to 
come here more or less out of idle curiosity ; but a little 
idea occurred to me as I called my cab. I am going to 
thoroughly enjoy myself this evening ; in fact, this is 
the first time I have had an opportunity of mingling with 
276 


Preparing the Way 277 

my fellow creatures for three years. But that is not the 
point. If you keep fairly close to me you will have the 
chance of seeing how I shall get on Anstruther’s nerves 
presently.” 

“ Do you mean to say you are going to begin at once ? M 
Rigby asked, “or would you not like to see Barmouth 
first? ” 

Seymour intimated that there was no hurry, and that the 
little drama he had in his mind would be best played out 
at supper time. That meal was intended to be a rather 
fast and furious affair, where all the guests were sup- 
posed to always act up to the characters which they per- 
sonified. 

“ Therefore I should very much like to see Barmouth,” 
Seymour said. “ If you can arrange a meeting for us in 
some quiet spot I shall be exceedingly obliged to you.” 

Rigby went off, with an intimation that he would not be 
long. He came back presently, and signified that Sey- 
mour should follow him. The two proceeded as far as the 
head of the staircase, and there, in a small room at the end 
of the corridor, Barmouth stood awaiting Seymour’s en- 
trance. No sooner was the latter inside, than his host 
closed and locked the door. He turned up the light, and 
snatched his mask from his face. On the impulse of the 
moment Seymour did the same. 

Save for the difference of their coloring, the two men 
were almost identically alike. Perhaps in the whole world 
it would have been impossible to find two refined and 
educated men so hideously and atrociously ugly. One 
man’s eyes were blue, the other one’s dark-brown ; but 
this made no difference. All amiability of expression, all 
frankness and sincerity, seemed to have been literally cut 
out of their features. Most men would have turned from 
them with loathing and disgust. They stood there look- 
ing at one another, the very image of the Nostalgo posters 
that London was still discussing so eagerly. As Seymour 
dropped Barmouth’s proffered hand, the latter burst into a 
bitter laugh. 

“No reason to try and flatter ourselves,” he said. 


The Yellow Face 


278 

“ When I look at you or you look at me, we both know 
that we are forever outside the pale of civilized society. 
We can make the most of an occasion like this, but these 
happy hours are few and far between.” 

“Well, do you know, I am not so sure of that,” Sey- 
mour said. “Let me have a cigarette, and we will dis- 
cuss the matter together. Do you happen to remember 
Ferris? ” 

Barmouth indicated that he remembered Ferris perfectly 
well. 

“ In fact, we were all victims of the same ceremony,” 
he said. “ What a ghastly business it was ! And that 
fiend of an Anstruther looking on without a drop of pity 
in his' heart for his fellow countrymen, whose sole crime 
was that they were in the hunt for gold like himself. But 
I want to try and forget all that. Do you mean to say you 
have met Ferris ? ” 

“ Ferris is at the Great Metropolitan Hotel at the pres- 
ent moment,” Seymour explained. “More or less acci- 
dentally he ran against Masefield. Jack Masefield hap- 
pened to mention that he knew me, and there you are. 
However, I dare say you can get Masefield to tell you 
the story another time. The point is, that Ferris has 
discovered a brilliant French surgeon who has operated 
upon him — he says, quite successfully. He is a mass of 
plaster and knife marks now, but he says that in the 
course of a few weeks he will have resumed his normal 
expression.” 

A great cry broke from Barmouth. His agitation was 
something dreadful to witness. 

“ Cured,” he whispered. “ Absolutely cured and like 
other men again. Oh, it seems like a dream ; like some- 
thing too good to be true. To think that you and I, old 
friend, are going to stand out once more in the broad light 
of day with no mask needed to conceal our hideousness ! 
You will undergo the operation ? ” 

‘ ‘ Ay, as soon as ever I have done with the Anstruther 
business”’ Seymour said in his deep voice. “ Once let 
me see that rascal beyond the power of further mischief, 


Preparing the Way 279 

and I place myself in that man’s hands at once, if it cost 
me half my fortune. There is a girl waiting for me, Bar- 
mouth — a girl who mourns me as dead. You can see how 
impossible it was for me to let her know the truth.” 

“ And yet my wife knows the truth,” Barmouth said 
thoughtfully. “ Hideous as I am, she refused to give me 
back my freedom.” 

‘ ‘ She is a woman of a million,” Seymour said, not with- 
out emotion ; “ but then Lady Barmouth discovered the 
truth. I don’t think you ever would have told her on 
your own initiative.” 

This was so true that Barmouth had nothing to say in 
reply. He appeared to be deeply immersed in thought. 
The settled melancholy of his face had given way to an 
eager, restless expression. He was like a man in the desert 
who, past all hope, had found aid at the last moment. He 
paused in his stride and sat down. 

“ I dare not dwell upon the possibilities that you have 
opened up before me,” he said. “ I had long abandoned 
all kinds of hope. Still, there are plenty of useful years 
before me. This is the first moment that I have felt what 
happiness means since we fell into the hands of that gang 
of Anstruther’s. You will recollect, of course, the wild 
stories that our tribesmen used to bring in to us about 
what happened to anybody who dared to cross the gold 
belt.” 

“The legend was very common out there,” Seymour 
said. “ If you will recollect, it was popularly supposed 
that some heathen god presided over the gold mines, and 
that it was a sacrilege for any stranger to make an attempt 
on the treasure. The natives there firmly believed that 
the outraged god imposed upon the adventurers a disease 
that rendered them so hideous that no man could ever 
bear to look upon their faces again.” 

“They were not far wrong there,” Barmouth said 
grimly. “ Or, where did those medicine men derive their 
knowledge of surgery ? I recollect very little that hap- 
pened after I found myself gagged and bound in that 
wonderful old temple, but I do know that one of those 


28 o 


The Yellow Face 


priests operated upon me with a lancet. When I came to 
myself, I was as you see me now. But you, too, went 
through it in your turn.” 

Seymour shuddered with the horror of the recollection 
of it. 

“ I don’t think we need go into that,” he said. “ The 
extreme punishment would never have been inflicted upon 
us had it not been for Anstruther. With his wonderful 
ascendancy over the tribe — and goodness knows how he 
got it — he seemed to be able to persuade them to do any- 
thing. The terror of it all, the hideous mystery, only 
served to keep others away.” 

“ And yet Anstruther must have lost his ascendancy,” 
Barmouth said, “or he would never have returned home 
without bringing a huge fortune with him. We have abso- 
lute proof of the fact that he is a poor man. But the truth 
of that will never be known.” 

“I am not so sure about that,” Seymour said. “ I hope 
before long to be able to hold the whip over his shoulder 
and force him to speak. I have my little scheme arranged, 
and I fancy you will derive some little amusement if you 
will watch the working of it. Of course, you know how 
Anstruther is dressed ? ” 

Barmouth was perfectly cognizant of Anstruther’s dis- 
guise. 

“The dress of the old tribe,” he said; “with the 
painted feathers, and all the rest of it. When he was 
pointed out to me just now by Masefield I could hardly 
restrain my feelings. Mind you, he is not here with a 
mere view to social enjoyment. He declined my wife’s 
invitation. He told Miss Helmsley that he did not feel 
well enough to turn up, and yet he is here like any other 
invited guest. Now, what is he up to ? ” 

“ It would be hard to say what Anstruther is up to,” 
Seymour replied. “ Doubtless he has some deep scheme 
afoot ; but he is not the only one, and we shall see who 
gets the best of it in the long run.” 

Barmouth was quite content to await developments. 
Knowing Seymour so well, he felt quite sure that the latter 


281 


Preparing the Way 

was not without a scheme likely to defeat Anstruther’s in- 
tentions. He did not care to come out as yet and mingle 
with the other guests, he said ; at the same time he had no 
desire to stand in the way of Seymour’s amusement. 

“ Oh, I am going to amuse myself all right,” Seymour 
said. “ Don’t forget that it is nearly three years since I 
last sat by the side of a woman, and listened to the music 
of her voice. For three years I have lacked the refining 
influence of woman’s society, and I always preferred the 
other sex to my own. I can move about here and pick 
out my partner as I choose. I care nothing for her face, 
for the simple reason that I cannot see it ; which, very for- 
tunately for me, is mutual. I am going to pick out all 
those with lovely voices. I dare say you will laugh at me.” 

“Not a bit of it,” Barmouth exclaimed. “My dear 
fellow, I know the feeling exactly. But when is this little 
comedy of yours coming off? I must be present at that.” 

“Just after supper,” Seymour explained. “When 
your excellent champagne will set all the tongues wag- 
ging. And now, if you don’t mind, I will just have a walk 
round and see that my confederates are carrying out their 
instructions. ’ ’ 

It was a brilliant scene, indeed, that Seymour viewed 
through his mask on reaching the great ballroom. A 
dance was in progress. There were very few people sit- 
ting out, and the dazzling waves of color weaved in and 
out like the spray of the sea against a huge rock in the sun- 
shine. A limelight had been arranged high up in the gal- 
lery, and from time to time threw quick flashes of different 
colored views upon the dancers. The effect was most 
brilliant; just a little dazzling to the eyes. But it was full 
of a sheer delight for Seymour, who had so long been de- 
nied the pleasures of life. 

“Very effective, is it not?” said Jack, as he came up. 
“ Quite a novel idea in a private ballroom. Come and 
have a glass of champagne with Rigby and myself. He is 
waiting for us in the buffet. I hope you had an enjoyable 
chat with Barmouth.” 

“ I was exceedingly pleased to see him again,” Seymour 


282 


The Yellow Face 


said. “ All the same, I am glad that there was no one 
else present. An Englishman does not care to display his 
feelings to an outsider.” 

Rigby was waiting as Jack had explained, and for some 
little time the three sipped their champagne whilst they 
talked over the situation. 

* 1 1 want you two to be as near as possible to me at sup- 
per time,” Seymour went on to explain. “And I want 
you to take your cue from me when I give it you. Mind, 
you must not look for any sensational developments — this 
is merely a comedy for our private amusement. I am 
going to give Anstruther a bit of a fright, and at the same 
time force his hand, so that when he is prepared to move 
he will play right up to us. As to the rest, keep your eye 
on the magician ! ” 

“ I wish you would be a little more explicit,” Jack said. 

“My dear fellow, there is nothing to be explicit about. 
Perhaps Anstruther will smell a rat, and decline to be 
drawn into the thing at all. Still, I’m not much afraid of 
that.” 

A clock somewhere struck the hour of midnight, and 
a moment later the strains of the band died away. The 
old family butler threw open the double doors leading to 
the dining hall, and announced supper in a loud voice. 

“Come along,” Seymour said. “The play has com- 
menced.” 


CHAPTER XL 


THE MAGICIAN SPEAKS 

The dining hall presented an appearance quite as strik- 
ing and imposing as the ballroom. It was magnificently 
paneled with Elizabethan oak ; the grand old buffets and 
furniture dated from the same period. The supper was 
laid out on a series of small tables forming a horseshoe, 
so that it was possible to move from one to the other 
without interruption. Each table had its separate electric 
light stand, round which were trailed sprays of red roses. 
With its shaded lights, its dim, carved walls, with its 
glitter of crystal and glass, the room presented a picture 
that was not easily forgotten. But there were other 
things quite as important to think of as the artistic side 
of the scene. A few moments later, and Anstruther came 
in with a tall woman, whom Rigby instantly recognized as 
a great society leader, on his arm. It was evident enough 
that while Anstruther knew his supper partner perfectly 
well, she was utterly puzzled as to his identity. 

‘‘So much the better for us,” Seymour said, as Jack 
pointed this out to him. “ But I must get back to my 
partner. I want you to try and keep me a place at the 
same table that Anstruther sits at. I hope you will man- 
age to secure Lady Barmouth for me. You will recollect 
that was to have been part of the programme.” 

The matter was arranged easily enough, and presently 
Seymour and Lady Barmouth were seated opposite An- 
struther and his companion. They had all at once 
plunged gaily into an animated conversation. By this 
time the guests had found their level, and had thoroughly 
settled themselves down to enjoyment. It was just pos- 
sible that a great many people recognized numbers of their 
friends there, but for the most part the recognition was 
ignored and the illusion maintained. 

283 


The Yellow Face 


284 

“Really this is a most charming picture,” Seymour 
said, addressing Anstruther in the friendliest fashion, 
though he had taken great care to modulate his voice. 
“With all my skill in the art of magic I could not have 
evolved a fairer scene than this. And my experience 
dates back a thousand years.” 

“ Quite the most respectable type of family magician,” 
Anstruther laughed, as he helped himself liberally to 
champagne. “We are all so dreadfully modern nowa- 
days. I suppose you have nothing to do with up-to-date 
methods. No palmistry, I presume? ” 

Seymour was delighted to find Anstruther ready to take 
up the spirit of the game. 

“Nothing comes amiss to me,” he said. “To conjure 
up a scene like this would, perhaps, tax my efforts pretty 
severely, but I should get there all the same. If anybody 
requires a little something in the way of perpetual life or 
untold gold, they have only to drop me a postcard and the 
thing is as good as done.” 

“ Delightful,” Anstruther’ s partner cried. “ I was just 
wondering how I was going to settle my racing debts, and 
now you come forward in the kindest way, and relieve 
me of all further anxiety. It is really more than kind of 
you.” 

“As for me,” Anstruther said, “lam concerned more 
with the future than the past. I have a little scheme on 
hand which is troubling me a good deal. Without going 
into details, shall I be successful ? Now, can you tell me 
that?” 

Seymour gravely consulted a crystal ball, which he had 
taken from the pocket of his flowing robe. Others were 
listening by this time, for the conversation at Seymour’s 
table was both amusing and interesting. He looked up 
from the ball in the same grave fashion. 

“ You are giving me a hard task,” he said. “ I do not 
know you; I have not even seen your face. And yet 
your soul is reflected in my faithful crystal, and your 
heart’s desire lies bare before me.” 


The Magician Speaks 285 

“But you have not told me if I shall be successful,” 
Anstruther said. “ That is the point, after all.” 

“You will not be successful,” Seymour said in a loud 
voice, which had the desired effect of attracting much atten- 
tion to the speaker. “ There is something dark that stands 
between you and the thing you so much desire. The 
crystal is not so clear as usual, but I can see in it a face. 
It is a strange face — dark and repulsive, and yet absolutely 
familiar. Yes, it is the face of the poster, the features of 
which have puzzled London for the last three months. It 
is this face which comes between you and your heart’s de- 
sire. Do I interest you ? ’ * 

Quite a score of guests were listening by now. They 
were thrilled and puzzled, and not a little interested. 
Seymour was playing his part splendidly ; even Jack and 
Rigby, who were in the plot, had to admit that. Nothing 
could be seen as to the way in which Anstruther took this 
shot, for his features were hidden behind his mask; but 
Rigby noticed that his hands were clutched upon the edge 
of the table-cloth, is if they were about the throat of some 
hateful foe. Anstruther sat quite quietly, almost rigidly, 
for a few moments, then burst into a hoarse, strident 
laugh. 

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Surely you must be 
aware of the fact that those Nostalgo posters are nothing- 
more or less than a clever advertisement.” 

“Nevertheless, they have more to do with you than you 
imagine,” Seymour went on in the same grave way. 
“They stand between you like a sheet and the execution 
of your plans. Let me look into my crystal again. Ah, 
the scene grows clearer. I see a ruined temple ; I see 
some weird religious ceremony, and the unconscious form 
of a man laid out for a sacrifice. He rises at length ; he 
is no longer good to look upon, his face has become the 
face of Nostalgo. Call it foolish if you like ” 

With a cry of something like anger, Anstruther rose 
to his feet. He seemed to suppress himself almost im- 
mediately, then sat down again. 

“ Capital ! ” he exclaimed. “ I dare say it is exceed- 


286 


The Yellow Face 


ingiy clever, but, at the same time, so much Greek to me. 
What I want is information about the future." 

“I should say you are a traveled man," Seymour said 
calmly. “You have spent a great deal of your time in 
adventure abroad. Now, let me hazard a guess. You 
have been in Mexico ? ’ ’ 

Anstruther curtly admitted that such was the fact. In 
spite of the gravity of the whole thing, and Seymour’s ad- 
mirable acting, he was getting nervous and excited. He 
would have given much to have removed the mask of his 
tormentor and studied the face behind. 

“It is the little trifles of life that interest you, then," 
Seymour said. “I am afraid you are very material, sir. 
Well, we will be prosaic if you like. For instance, my 
crystal tells me that you are fond of works of art ; in 
fact, you are a collector of such things. What would you 
say if I were to prophesy that you are going to add largely 
to your treasures in the course of the next few days? 
To be precise, one of your hobbies is old silver. Like 
most collectors, you will do pretty well everything to gain 
your end." 

“I am afraid that is about true," Anstruther admitted. 

“ Spoken like a man of the world," Seymour went on. 
“ For a long time you have coveted a fine specimen of 
Cellini silver work. A whole set of it will pass into your 
possession, if it has not already done so, and the unique 
service will not cost you a farthing." 

Seymour delivered this shot calmly enough, pretending 
to be gazing at the crystal all the time. But the way in 
which Anstruther writhed about in his chair was not lost 
upon Jack and Rigby, who were watching the drama with 
breathless interest. Anstruther had half risen from his 
seat again, and then had forced himself down once more, 
as if struggling with his hidden emotions. 

“ I should like to see that precious crystal of yours," 
he sneered. “ It seems nothing but a piece of glass to 
me." 

By way of reply, Seymour gravely polished the crystal 
on his serviette, and passed it across to Anstruther with 


The Magician Speaks 287 

instructions to hold it firmly in his palms long enough for 
the imprint of his fingers to fix themselves. Anstruther 
laughed as he complied with these instructions. Then the 
crystal was laid upon the table very carefully, and was 
rolled into a small cardboard box, and there swathed in 
cotton wool. With the same grave demeanor, Seymour 
called for wax and something unique in the way of a seal. 
A servant came presently with a piece of violet sealing 
wax, and one of the guests proffered his intaglio ring as a 
seal. 

“ I am going to ask a favor," Seymour said. “ I 
should like the gentleman to seal the box, and hand it 
over to another guest, who will take care of the whole 
thing for the next three days. You will all see what I 
mean — I want to prevent the possibility of the box being 
tampered with. Will the gentleman kindly seal the 
packet, and will another gentleman kindly offer to take 
care of it? ” 

The box was sealed at length with the intaglio ring, 
then another guest came forward and volunteered to keep 
it in his charge. 

“ That is exceedingly good of you," Seymour went on ; 
“only you will quite see that we cannot carry this through 
properly unless the gentleman who has taken charge of the 
box volunteers his name." 

“No trouble about that," the second guest cried. “ I 
am Sir Frederick Ormond, Under- Secretary of Foreign 
Affairs. I hope that my name will be sufficient guar- 
antee." 

Seymour nodded, and the statesman dropped the packet 
into the pocket of his cloak. Anstruther laughed un- 
pleasantly. 

“ And what is the upshot of all this to be ? " he asked. 

“It is on the knees of the gods," Seymour said 
gravely. “ Your individuality will become impressed 
upon the crystal through the grips of your hands, and at 
the end of the period suggested you will be able to see 
your whole future there. I dare say Sir Frederick will 
produce the crystal when the proper time comes." 


288 


The Yellow Face 


Anstruther turned away with a little laugh of contempt, 
and, as if nothing out of the common had happened, Sey- 
mour turned and began to discuss ordinary topics with his 
hostess. Supper was practically over by this time, and 
most of the guests were streaming back once more in the 
direction of the ballroom. Amongst the few who still re- 
mained were Jack and Claire, the latter, of course, being 
Jack’s supper partner. 

“ That was very cleverly done,” Claire said. “I sup- 
pose there is some hidden meaning behind it ? ” 

“ Of course,” Jack said. “ Only I have not the re- 
motest idea what it was. Don’t let us go back to the ball- 
room yet — I have discovered one of the jolliest little places 
leading off the hall, where we can sit and have a cozy 
chat without the least fear of interruption.” 

It was precisely as Jack had said — a little alcove, dimly 
lighted and filled with ferns, from which they could see 
much that was going on without being seen in their turn. 
It was very quiet down there, and Jack made the most of 
his opportunities. A silence fell upon the pair presently, 
one of those long, delicious silences, only possible where 
there is a perfect understanding. Jack came out of his 
reverie presently, conscious that Claire was gripping him 
tightly by the arm. With the point of her fan she indi- 
cated the figure of Anstruther, who had come down evi- 
dently in search of the telephone. The instrument was 
almost immediately opposite the alcove, and Anstruther, 
little dreaming that he was being watched, plied the handle 
vigorously. He gave a number presently which was his 
own in Panton Square. 

“Are you there?” he whispered; “are you there? 
Confound the girl ! why doesn’t she speak ? Oh, so you 
are there at last. What ? Oh, yes, yes. I am speaking 
to you. You know who I am. Yes, there is danger — 
danger that is urgent and immediate. I have no time to 
explain now ; you are to come here masked at once. Do 
not come to the front door, but to the lane behind. You 
will find a small, green gate there, with Number Five 
upon it in white letters. I will see that the gate is un- 


The Magician Speaks 289 

locked. Then make your way straight up the garden, 
and into the summer-house which is at the top of the 
marble steps by the fountain. You are not to be more 
than half-an-hour.” 

Anstruther rang off, and replaced the receiver on the 
hooks. He strolled away without the slightest idea that 
every word he said was audible to the pair of lovers in the 
alcove. Jack turned to Claire with eager eyes. 

“This must be seen to immediately,” he said. “Go 
back to the ballroom as if nothing had happened and wait 
for me there. As for myself, lam going to smoke a cigar 
in the garden, and wait to see who the mysterious indi- 
vidual is who has been so peremptorily summoned here. 
You see how important it is.” 

Claire saw that there was much in what Jack said. 
Obediently enough she went off to the ballroom, and 
waited eagerly for the return of her lover. He seemed a 
long time coming, and nearly an hour had passed before 
he came back and strolled up to Claire in as casual a way 
as possible. But she could see that his eyes were gleam- 
ing behind his mask. He was breathing fast, too. 

“Have you discovered who it was?” Claire asked 
eagerly. 

“Yes,” Jack replied. “They are both together. As 
I more than half expected, the fresh arrival is Serena.” 


i 


CHAPTER XLI 

THE WORM TURNS 

Meanwhile, it is necessary to go back for a few 
moments to the garden and summer-house where Jack had 
been waiting, to see who was going to keep the assignation 
with Anstruther. On the whole, it was not unpleasant 
work, seeing that the night was very fine and warm, and 
at the same time dark and velvety. There were not many 
gardens in London as finely proportioned as those behind 
Barmouth’s residence. It was wonderful, in the midst of 
that atmosphere, that flowers and shrubs could flourish so 
kindly. There were not many paths, most of the ground 
being given over to turf, so that Jack’s feet made no 
noise as he walked along in the direction of the green gate 
which gave upon the lane beyond. 

The gate turned out to be a door in the wall hidden 
from view inside by a deep belt of shrubs. It was here 
that Jack hid himself, and stood smoking his cigar with a 
determination to stay there all night if necessary. The 
best part of an hour had elapsed before there was a noise 
outside, and a hand turned the latch. Jack dropped his 
cigar, and ground it into the soft earth with the heel of 
his slipper. By this time his eyes had got accustomed to 
the darkness, so that it was not a difficult matter to make 
out the outlines of the approaching figure. The figure 
was that of a woman, evidently dressed for the evening, 
and wearing a mask. 

Jack was not to be deceived ; he knew that form 
perfectly well, even if he had not recognized the dress, 
which the wearer had used the night of his visit to Car- 
rington’s. 

“Serena,” he whispered to himself. “Well, I might 
have expected that. Now to see what will happen next.” 

290 


The Worm Turns 


291 


Jack made his way hurriedly across the lawn, and took 
up a position behind a belt of pampas grass, where he could 
not only see into the summer-house, but also hear what 
was going on there. He was only just in time, for almost 
immediately the towering headdress of Anstruther ap- 
peared, and its owner made his way directly to the summer- 
house. Jack could see Serena as she hurried along. On 
the still night air every word could be distinctly heard. 
There came to Jack’s ears a whispered apology from Serena 
that she was sorry for the delay. 

“You might have ruined everything,” Anstruther said 
savagely. “I told you to be here within half-an-hour at 
the latest.” 

Serena replied humbly that she could not get there be- 
fore. She had to dress, and she had had to get the other 
servant out of the way. Anstruther muttered impatiently. 

“I suppose it is impossible for a woman to keep to 
time,” he said. “And now listen to me. There is some- 
thing going on here which even I cannot fathom. I feel 
as if I were being laughed at ; as if an unseen net was 
about my shoulders, and that a hidden hand was ready to 
close it at any time.” 

Jack listened eagerly to what followed. It was quite 
evident from what Anstruther said that Seymour’s per- 
formance had made a deep impression upon him. For 
once in a way Anstruther was puzzled and frightened. 
He told Serena at considerable length all that had taken 
place during supper. 

“There is more than meets the eye here,” he said, 
“ and that fellow said either too little or too much. One 
thing is quite certain — he is pretty intimately acquainted 
with my inner life in Mexico. Now who is he, and how 
does he know all this ? ” 

“If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,” Serena replied. 

“No; but you are going to find out,” Anstruther re- 
sponded. “You are going to mingle with the other 
guests as if you were a friend of Lady Barmouth’s, and I 
will sign to you presently what I want you to do. You 
have plenty of nerve and resource, ai^d you must find some 


292 


The Yellow Face 


way of removing the mask from the face of my friend the 
magician. But that is not all. I have a very shrewd sus- 
picion that this mysterious Lord Barmouth is no other than 
the man James Smith, who has been so useful to me from 
a pecuniary point of view.” 

“ You think Lord Barmouth and James Smith are the 
same person?” Serena cried. “Oh, that is quite im- 
possible.” 

“That remains to be seen,” said Anstruther. “You 
know all about Lord Barmouth’s reputation as a recluse 
as well as I do. Therefore, it will be part of your duty 
to get a sight of Lord Barmouth also. Mind you, I may 
be mistaken, but I have a strong impression that when 
you come to look at Barmouth you will see the features 
of James Smith. What the certainty of this means to 
me you can pretty well guess. Hitherto I have treated 
Smith as a comparatively poor man, never guessing for a 
moment that he was the enormously wealthy Barmouth, 
but in future ” 

Anstruther paused significantly. The listener thrilled 
as he realized the danger in which Barmouth stood. But 
his whole attention now was concentrated upon Serena. 
He could see that she had drawn herself up to her full 
height ; from the motion of her hands, she was evidently 
moved by some strong feeling. It flashed upon Jack all at 
once that Anstruther was asking Serena to plot against the 
happiness of her own sister — Lady Barmouth. That that 
was the chord that Anstruther had touched, Serena’s first 
words proved. 

“You are asking too much,” she said. “ I will not do 
it. There are times when I feel that this life of mine can 
endure no longer. I have worked hard for you ; I have 
been the slave of all your schemes ; I have forgotten that 
I possess a conscience.” 

“Yes; and you forget what you owe to me,” An- 
struther responded. “But for me you would long since 
have stood in a felon’s dock. If you will think of the time 
when you and your boy " 

“No, no ! ” Serena cried. 


“ I will not have it. What 


The Worm Turns 


2 93 


do I care if I alarm the people inside. For the sake of 
that black past I have consented to be your tool and slave. 
And yet I feel sometimes that you are playing with me ; 
that the whole thing is nothing more or less than a cruel 
and deliberate lie on your part, and that my boy still lives. 
If I thought so ; if I only thought so ’ ’ 

Serena plunged forward, and Jack could see that some- 
thing glittered in her hand. There was the confused 
suggestion of a struggle, the sound of an oath from An- 
struther’s lips, and the tinkle of metal upon the floor of 
the summer-house. 

“ So you have got one of your mad moods on to-night,” 
Anstruther panted. “Do not push me to extremes, be- 
cause you know what that means. Will you obey me or 
not?” 

Jack could see Serena pass her hands across her eyes ; 
he could hear the quick sobbing of her breath. 

“I was wrong,” she said presently. It was marvelous 
how quickly she had recovered herself. “I will do your 
bidding. Let us go inside, and you can show me the man 
whose face you desire to see.” 

The two moved off together, and entered the house, 
where they were quickly lost in the throng of guests. It 
was at this point that Jack joined Claire again, and told 
her rapidly what had happened. 

“I will go to her at once,” Claire said. “ It is quite 
evident, from what you say, that this poor woman acts 
entirely under the sinister influence of Anstruther. It 
would be a good thing, I fancy, to appeal to her better 
nature.” Possibly it had been better for him to go off 
and warn Seymour, but the strong curiosity of the moment 
prevailed. He was just a little anxious about Claire, too. 
And Seymour was so full of cleverness and resource if 
anything untoward happened. 

The scheme commended itself to Jack. He would leave 
everything to Claire for the present. Then, when she was 
ready, she could come to him again. Apparently An- 
struther had given Serena all her instructions, for Claire 
found her seated by herself in a corner of the ballroom 


294 


The Yellow Face 


watching the dazzling scene. Claire crept quietly to her 
side, and touched her on the shoulder. 

“Serena," she said gently. “ Serena, I want you." 

There was a violent agitation, that shook the listener’s 
frame; but she rose very gently, and passed along the 
corridor by Claire’s side without the slightest protest. 
They came to a little alcove at length, and Claire bade her 
companion sit down. 

“I know why you are here to-night," she explained. 
“I even know what your appointed task is. But, what is 
still more important, I am acquainted with the hold that 
Anstruther has upon you. Believe me, you have no firmer 
friend in the world than myself. Tell me your sad story, 
and let me see if I can help you." 

The gently spoken words were not without their effect. 
Heedless of consequences, Serena removed her mask, 
and proceeded to wipe the streaming tears from her 
eyes. 

“I will tell you everything," she murmured. “You 
know already that Lady Barmouth is my sister, and you 
are acquainted with the fact that Padini is my husband ; 
but nobody knows besides Anstruther that I was once the 
mother of a little boy. I was always wilful and headstrong. 
I was always ready to throw away my happiness for the 
whim of the moment. That is why I married Padini, who 
basely deserted me when he found that I had no money. 
A month after our marriage I was alone in the world, al- 
most starving. I was too proud to send to my friends ; I 
had meant to wait till my money was exhausted, and then 
throw myself into the river. But I dared not do that, be- 
cause of the fresh young life which I knew was coming to 
me. I managed to make a little money, and when my 
child was born I was comparatively happy. When the 
boy was about eighteen months old, Anstruther found me 
out, and professed a desire to become my friend. It was 
about that time that Padini turned up again, and began to 
blackmail me. I cannot tell you exactly what happened ; 
they say I tried to kill him because he would have taken 
my child from me. At any rate, I have always been in- 


The Worm Turns 


295 

formed that I might have suffered a long term of imprison- 
ment if Anstruther had not stood my friend." 

“ But this does not give him so great a power over 
you," Claire said. “ A mere act of charity like 
that ’ ’ 

“ But I have not told you everything," Serena whis- 
pered. “For a short time I was a mad woman. And 
when I came to myself again, they told me that I had 
killed my boy. Oh, I have no wish to dwell upon that 
dreadful time — I hardly dare to think of it without a wild 
desire to lay hands upon myself. And yet there are times 
when I believe the whole thing to have been a wicked lie, 
a pure invention on the part of Anstruther. At these times 
I believe that my boy is still safe and sound, and that 
some day we shall meet again. This is the whole secret 
of the reason why I have clung to Anstruther, and why I 
have been the slave of his base designs. But this story 
must be told to no one, not even to Lady Barmouth." 

Serena might have said more, only the sound of ap- 
proaching footsteps warned Claire of the necessity for 
caution. She whispered to Serena to replace her mask — - 
a precaution that was none too soon, for Anstruther was 
impatiently coming down the corridor side by side with 
another man, whom Claire recognized as Lord Barmouth. 

“I have been looking for you everywhere," Anstruther 
said. “ What do you mean by hiding yourself here? " 

It was quite clear that Anstruther had lost his head for 
the moment. Lord Barmouth paused, and looked at the 
other sternly and coldly. Yet he hesitated, as if half 
afraid to speak. He had the advantage over Anstruther 
in knowing who the latter was, while still preserving the 
secret of his own identity. 

“I presume this lady is your wife," he said. “You 
would hardly speak even to a sister in that tone of 
voice." 

“You are candid, sir," Anstruther said bitterly. “If 
you knew who I am I have not the slightest doubt " 

“I know perfectly well who you are," Barmouth said 
quietly. He had quite made up his mind what to do now. 


296 The Yellow Face 

“Will you be good enough to step this way for a 
moment ? ” 

Anstruther followed, until Barmouth reached his own 
private room. Then he locked the door, and put up the 
light. 

“Now that we are face to face and free from interrup- 
tion,” he said, “I am going to speak still more candidly 
to you. But first let me ask you a question. Why did 
you decline the invitation of Lady Barmouth on the plea 
of a severe chill, and then come here afterwards, as if you 
wanted your presence in the house kept a secret ? ” 

“Really,” Anstruther stammered — “really, I cannot 
recognize your right to cross-examine me like this. In 
the very unlikely event of your being my host ” 

“We will discuss that presently,” Barmouth replied. 
“ Permit me to remind you that you have not yet an- 
swered my question, Mr. Anstruther. You will not deny 
your identity ? ” 

Anstruther laughed awkwardly, and, seeing that the 
game was up, removed his mask and pitched it on the 
table. 

“What I have done is not exactly a crime,” he said. 
“ I changed my mind, and came at the last moment.” 

“ At the last moment,” Barmouth echoed significantly. 
“You have been here for the past two hours.” 

Anstruther moved towards the door. He declared, 
with some heat, that he would have no more of this, un- 
less the other could prove his right to ask these questions. 
Barmouth turned away for a moment, and when he faced 
round again his face was bare of the mask. 

“ Now you recognize my right,” he said. “ You black- 
hearted scoundrel, I am Lord Barmouth.” 


CHAPTER XLII 


A PIECE OF MUSIC 

In other circumstances, Anstruther would have been 
pleased with the turn of events. He knew now that 
Smith, whom for so long he had been persecuting, was the 
rich Lord Barmouth. This, too, saved a deal of trouble ; 
for instance, Serena need not have been brought here at 
all. Now Anstruther would be able to blackmail Bar- 
mouth for thousands, whereas he had been content with 
hundreds from the more humble Smith. Barmouth smiled, 
as he followed Anstruther’ s train of thought. He was 
reading the other’s mind like an open book. 

“ I know exactly what you are thinking about,” he 
said. “You are not sighing for lost opportunities ; you 
are going to make it all up in the future. Still, I have 
puzzled you and, perhaps, frightened you a little. You 
are perfectly well aware why I have concealed my identity 
for so long. And you would give a great deal to know 
why I have so suddenly come out and met you in the 
open. On that point I have no intention of gratifying 
your curiosity. You may put your mask on again, and I 
will resume mine ; but of one thing you may be certain. 
Either as Lord Barmouth or as James Smith, not one 
farthing more will you ever receive from me.” 

Barmouth turned contemptuously away, and unlocked 
the door. 

“ Now you can go your way, and I will go mine,” he 
said. “ I shall say nothing of this to Lady Barmouth ; at 
least, not for the present. Make the best of your evening’s 
pleasure. It will be the last time you will ever be under 
my roof.” 

With an irritated feeling of defeat Anstruther stalked 
from the room, followed by Lord Barmouth, who lost no 
297 


The Yellow Face 


298 

chance of hunting up Jack and Rigby. He told his inter- 
ested listeners what had happened. 

“ I think you have acted wisely, Lord Barmouth,” 
Rigby said. “ We are so hot upon the track of Anstruther 
now that a day or two makes little difference. At the 
same time, I cannot quite see why Anstruther should have 
come here in this mysterious way, when he might have 
accompanied Claire quite openly.” 

Jack was inspired with a sudden idea. 

“ It’s all a question of alibi,” he said. “ We know per- 
fectly well what an ingenious scheme Anstruther has put 
up so that he may be what an Irishman would call in two 
places at the same time. Here is a magnificent oppor- 
tunity of getting to the bottom of that mysterious music 
business.” 

“ Right you are,” Rigby cried. “ It would be like 
flying in the face of Providence to throw away such a 
chance. Anstruther is here, and likely to remain, and so 
is Serena. You may depend upon it that the other maid 
has gone to bed, so that we should have the house in Pan- 
ton Square all to ourselves. You know the ropes better 
than I do, Jack. Can you tell us a good way of getting 
into the house without playing the burglar ? ’ ’ 

Jack thought a moment, then an inspiration came to 
him again ; the thing was quite simple. 

“We can walk into the place as if it belonged to us,” 
he said. “ When Claire came away, Anstruther told her 
that he should retire early. Claire did not wish to keep 
the servants up unduly, so she took a latch-key with her.” 

“Absolutely made for us,” Rigby exclaimed. “You 
go off to Miss Helmsley and borrow her latch-key, and we 
will get to the bottom of the whole mystery whilst An- 
struther is enjoying himself here.” 

Jack came back presently with the latch-key in his pos- 
session. It was an easy matter to get out of the house 
without being observed ; then a cab was called, and the 
two proceeded to Jack’s chambers, where they stripped 
off their fancy dresses hastily and assumed more civilized 
attire. 


A Piece of Music 


2 99 

“ I vote we take Bates into this business,” Rigby sug- 
gested. ‘‘I’ve got a little idea of my own, which I will 
tell you about after we have been to Panton Square.” 

Unfortunately the services of Inspector Bates were not 
available, for he had been called out on some business of 
importance, and was not expected back till the following 
morning. 

“We shall have to go through it ourselves,” Jack said. 
“You will have a fine lot of copy for the Planet a bit later 
on. I declare I am getting quite fascinated by my present 
occupation. Shall we take a cab, or would it not be more 
safe for us to walk? ” 

Panton Square was reached at length, and No. 5 ap- 
peared to be in total darkness. As the friends had an- 
ticipated, Serena’s fellow servant had gone to bed, for 
neither at the front or back of the house was there so much 
as a glimmer of light to be seen. An application of the 
latch-key to the door proved quite successful, and a minute 
later the two friends were inside. They had not the 
slightest hesitation in putting up the lights, so that the 
passing police might infer that the occupants of the place 
had returned. Not that he wanted to trouble much about 
anything but the study, seeing that it was there that the 
mysterious music always emanated. 

It was an ordinary-looking room enough, the walls be- 
ing entirely lined with books. There were books every- 
where, not an inch of space being available for more. 
The ceiling was quite plain, and the closest search failed 
to disclose anything in the way of an apparatus by which 
the sounds of music could be conveyed from a distance 
into the study. Jack looked round with a puzzled 
frown. 

“ All the same, it must come that way,” he said. “I 
know perfectly well that one of Padini’s recitals came into 
this room as if it had been carried by some electrical 
means.” 

“A sort of telephone, I suppose,” Rigby said. “Of 
course, we have all heard of the theatrephone, but that 
theory would not work out in this case. With the dodge 


The Yellow Face 


3 °° 

in question you have to plug both ears with a kind of re- 
ceiver, and even then the music is only audible to those 
using the little receivers. In the present instance I under- 
stand that the whole room is flooded with melody, just as 
if the player were actually here.” 

“You’ve got it exactly,” Jack explained. “I have 
heard it myself, and so has Claire ; and both of us spotted 
the music as being in precisely the style of Padini. Hang 
me if I can see the slightest sign of how the thing is 
worked.” 

Rigby said nothing ; indeed, he was hardly listening. 
He was pacing round the room pulling armfuls of books 
out here and there, as if expecting to find some cunning 
device hidden behind the volumes. He stooped to pick 
up Anstruther’s violin case, which lay upon the floor. 
The case had been recently dropped, or some weight had 
fallen upon it, for the lid was cracked all across, and the 
hinges were broken. Rigby gave a little cry as he threw 
back the lid. 

“Here’s a discovery for you,” he exclaimed. “An- 
struther’s violin with the neck broken off. If you will 
look at it closely, yoti will see that it is covered with dust, 
and evidently has not been used for days. Of course, it 
is just possible that Anstruther possesses two violins ” 

“I know as a matter of fact that he doesn’t,” Jack 
said. “This is his Cremona right enough. I have had 
it in my hands a hundred times.” 

“We are getting on,” Rigby laughed. “This room 
has been flooded with melody night after night, and yet 
we know for a fact that Anstruther’s violin has been ab- 
solutely useless.” 

“ That does not help us to a solution of the problem,” 
Jack said. “But I have an idea. We shall never get to 
the truth through Anstruther, but Padini may help us. 
Now it is very improbable that Anstruther will be back 
under an hour. I’ll stay here whilst you go off to the 
Great Metropolitan Hotel and see Padini. If you flatter 
him a bit, he will probably play to you. He will certainly 
do this in his own room, because professionals of mark 


A Piece of Music 


3 OL 


never practice in public. What I am driving at is this : I 
feel quite certain that whatever Padini plays to you, I shall 
hear in this room.” 

“ Excellent,’' Rigby cried. “ 1 will go at once.” 

Late as it was, Padini had not gone to bed ; indeed, 
one of the corridor servants informed Rigby that the 
violinist had been practicing on his violin for the past 
hour. Without the slightest hesitation, Rigby made his 
way into Padini’s room. The latter looked up with a puz- 
zled air of surprise ; evidently he had been taking a little 
more champagne than was good for him. 

“ I seem to know your face,” he said. 

“Of course you do,” Rigby said smoothly. “Don’t 
you remember me interviewing you for the Planet ? I 
happened to be in the hotel, and I thought I would look 
you up. I suppose it would be too much to ask you to 
play something to me ? I am passionately fond of 
music, to say nothing of being a great admirer of 
yours. Besides, I have a particular desire to hear you 
to-night.” 

Padini looked up with just a shade of suspicion in his 
eyes. Rigby felt that perhaps he was going a bit too far. 
He proceeded to flatter the artist to such an extent, that 
Padini’s suspicions were quickly lulled to rest. There was 
a half-empty bottle of champagne on the table, but Rigby 
refused the proffered hospitality. 

“ No, thank you,” he said. “ I came to hear you play. 
I know it was a great liberty on my part and, if you like, 
you can turn me out at once ; but I wish you would play 
something.” 

Padini rose rather unsteadily, and reached for his violin. 
Once his fingers grasped the neck of his instrument, he 
seemed to be himself again. Rascal as the fellow was, 
there was no doubt of his great artistic qualities. He 
handled his bow with the air and grip of a master. He 
started some slow movement from one of Beethoven’s 
sonatas, and Rigby lay back in his chair, giving himself 
up entirely to the delight of the moment. 

It seemed, if Padini once started, he would not know 


3°2 


The Yellow Face 


when to stop, for he played one piece after another, en- 
tirely forgetting that he had an audience. Across Rigby’s 
brain there came floating the germ of a great idea. Padini 
finished a brilliant passage, and the bow fell from his 
hands. 

“There, my friend,” he said breathlessly. “Never 
have I played better than I have done to-night.” 

“You are indeed a master,” Rigby said, and he meant 
every word that he uttered. “ An artist so great as your- 
self should be a composer also. Have you published any- 
thing at all ? ” 

The flattered artist replied that he had not published 
anything so far, but there were one or two little things 
which he had written in his spare time, and these he in- 
tended offering to some publisher who was prepared to pay 
a price for them. 

“ Would you mind playing me one ? ” Rigby asked. “ I 
should prefer a piece that nobody has ever heard. ’ ’ 

Padini swept his bow across the strings, and proceeded 
to play a perfect little gem in a minor key. To a certain 
extent it reminded Rigby of Gounod’s “Ave Maria,” 
though its originality and breadth deprived it of any sug- 
gestion of plagiarism. 

“Perfect in its way,” Rigby said. “ Would you mind 
giving me the score ? If you will, I can get a good price 
for it from the Planet people. We are going to publish 
music at reasonable rates, and there is no reason why you 
should not have fifty guineas for yours.” 

Padini declared that he quite shared Rigby’s opinion. 
He took a sheet of manuscript music from a drawer, and 
threw it carelessly across to his companion. 

“There you are,” he said. “Make the best bargain 
you can for me. What? You are not going already ? ” 

Rigby muttered something to the effect that he had not 
yet finished his work at the office, and that he must tear 
himself away, much as he would like to have stayed to 
hear more of that beautiful music. A few minutes later 
Rigby left the room. As he glanced back he saw that 
Padini had fallen into his armchair again, and was already 


A Piece of Music 303 

half asleep. Rigby smiled to himself, wondering what 
Padini would say if he knew the purpose to which the 
sheet of manuscript music would be devoted. He called 
a cab and hastened away in the direction of Panton Square, 
where he expected that Jack would be still awaiting him. 
The lights were up at No. 5 just as they were when Rigby 
had started for the Great Metropolitan Hotel ; but, all the 
same, he took the precaution of whistling softly, in case 
anything had gone wrong. The front door opened cau- 
tiously, and Jack’s head peeped out. A moment later, 
and Rigby was inside. 

“ Well? ” he demanded impatiently. “ Anything hap- 
pened ? ’ ’ 

“A great deal,” Jack replied. “ For half-an-hour 
everything was quiet, then that wonderful music started 
again. Mind you, I haven’t the remotest idea where it 
came from ; I am just as much in the fog as ever. But it 
filled the room as if some great artist was invisible to me. 
I could recognize Padini’s touch. Of course, I am assum- 
ing that you found him at home, and persuaded him to 
play to you. Can I take that for granted ? ” 

“ It is exactly as you say,” Rigby explained. “ Please 
go on.” 

“Then I will tell you what Padini played. He started 
with the first part of ‘ The Moonlight Sonata.' ” 

Rigby nodded and smiled. His smile broadened as 
Jack proceeded to tick off the pieces of music just as they 
were played. 

“There was one, however, that I could not follow,” 
he said. “It was that lovely little thing at the end. 
I am absolutely certain that it was an original piece of 
music.” 

Rigby laughed as he produced the scrap of manuscript 
from his pocket. There was an expression of triumph on 
his face. 

“ Original, and in my possession,” he cried. “ This 
scrap of paper contains the key of the whole situation. n m 


CHAPTER XLIII 


THE TRAP IS BAITED 

Jack looked inquiringly at his friend. He had not 
yet fully grasped the significance of Rigby’s remark. He 
asked for an explanation. Rigby went on to speak rap- 
idly. 

“It’s like this, you see,” he remarked. “ When I saw 
that fellow just now and got him to play to me, a rather 
good idea came into my mind. So long as Anstruther can 
manage to delude us into believing that he spends most of 
his evenings in playing classical music, we can’t get much 
further. Classical music is open to everybody; and if 
we allege that on a certain evening Anstruther performed 
one of Beethoven’s sonatas — or, rather, that Padini per- 
formed it — we should have great difficulty in proving our 
point.” 

“ I think I can catch your idea,” Jack said. 

“ I thought you would. My idea was to get something 
original ; something, if possible, that Anstruther has never 
oven heard. He couldn’t very well play a piece he had 
never heard, now could he? I asked Padini if he had 
anything of the kind in hand, and he played the piece 
which you so much liked. As I said just now, I have the 
thing in my pocket ; and by means of that simple sheet of 
paper we are going to trap Anstruther.” 

“I don’t quite see it,” Jack said. 

“ What I mean is that we are going to manage it be- 
tween us. Unless I am greatly mistaken, events will move 
very rapidly to-morrow night. Anstruther must of neces- 
sity be out most of the time after dinner, but the music in 
the study will go on all the same. You must manage to 
dine in Panton Square to-morrow night, and I will work 
the thing from the Great Metropolitan Hotel with Padini. 
In the course of the evening Padini will play the melody 

3°4 


The Trap is Baited 305 

which we are now talking about, and you will hear it. 
Now, I know Miss Helmsley is a very capable pianist, and 
I want her to follow the air carefully, so that she will be 
able to play it by ear. Then we shall be in a position to ask 
Anstruther the name of the piece that attracted her so much. 
Miss Helmsley can pick it out on the piano for him, and 
ask him to play it again. You can imagine his difficulty, 
but you can hardly imagine a way out of it. This is only 
a side issue, I know ; but it . will all tell when we bring 
Anstruther to book and expose the whole conspiracy.” 

Jack appreciated the point, and promised to do his best 
to bring the comedy to a successful issue. There was 
nothing for it now but to reassume their fancy dresses and 
return to Belgrave Square. 

By this time a considerable number of the guests were 
moving on elsewhere, though the majority of those present 
meant to see the thing through. As the cab bearing Jack 
and Rigby drove up they saw the tall figure of Anstruther 
coming down the steps. He stood there as if hesitating 
for a moment, then called a passing cab and gave some 
directions to Piccadily. 

“Any money I know where he is going to,” Rigby 
said. “ My dear fellow, you go inside and see Miss 
Helmsley, whilst I take this cab back to our rooms and 
change again into civilized attire.” 

“ What are you going to do now? ” Jack asked. 

“I am going to follow Anstruther,” Rigby explained. 
“ I feel so restless to-night that I can’t settle down to any- 
thing. So I am just going to follow that fellow, who is 
most assuredly going to see Carrington.” 

It was half-an-hour later before Rigby found himself, 
minus his fancy dress, in Piccadilly opposite the rooms 
occupied by Carrington. It was very late now, and Picca- 
dilly was absolutely deserted, save for a passing policeman 
and a stray night cab whose driver appeared to be asleep 
upon the box. Rigby hesitated for a moment, a little un- 
certain as to what to do. 

There was no difficulty in ascertaining as to whether 
Carrington had or had not gone to bed, for the lights 


The Yellow Face 


3°6 

were up in his sitting-room, and presently a shadow ap- 
peared upon the blind. Doubtless this was Carrington, 
and all speculation was set at rest an instant later by a 
second shadow on one of the blinds. The gigantic head- 
dress of Anstruther loomed large against the light. There 
was nothing for it now but to wait patiently upon the 
course of events. Rigby pulled at the leg of the slumber- 
ing cabman, and brought him to a sense of his responsi- 
bilities, 

“ I don’t want to take your cab anywhere,” he ex- 
plained. “ All I want is to hire it for an hour or so and 
sit inside. You can go to sleep again if you like, and I’ll 
wake you when I am ready to go. It will be an easy way 
of earning half-a-sovereign.” 

The cabman grinned and nodded as Rigby disappeared 
into the recesses of the cab. It was, perhaps, an hour 
later before the door leading to Carrington’s flat opened 
and Anstruther came out. Evidently he had left his fancy 
dress behind him, for he was attired in a rough coat and 
deerstalker hat. Carrington appeared to be dissuading 
his friend from something, and Rigby could hear the latter 
laugh in reply. 

y “ I tell you it must be done,” Anstruther said, “ and 
it will have to be done to-morrow night. I shall see friend 
Charlie without delay. If he is not in, I shall leave a 
settled note for him.” 

Anstruther strode off down the street, and presently 
hailed another night cab which was crawling down the 
road. Rigby sat up and aroused his own driver. 

“Here’s another five shillings for you,” he said. 
“Keep that cab in front of you in sight, and follow it till 
it stops. Then you shall have fifteen shillings. Unless I 
am greatly mistaken, you will not have very far to go.” 

As a matter of fact, Rigby had summed up the situation 
quite correctly. The mention of the name of Charlie had 
given him the clue he required, this same Charlie being 
none other than the professional cracksman who had been 
engaged by Anstruther to deliver the letter at the Great 
Metropolitan Hotel to Ferris. This deduction proved to 


The Trap is Baited 307 

be absolutely correct, for a little time later the first cab 
pulled up in front of the tenement house where Seymour 
had taken up his temporary quarters. 

Rigby dismissed the cab, and followed cautiously. He 
was in time to see Anstruther take a key from his pocket, 
and let himself quietly into the rooms occupied by the 
individual who was known to his friends and admirers 
as “ Simple Charlie.” Then Rigby turned and knocked 
for admission at the outer door of Seymour’s apartments. 
The latter did not appear in the least surprised to see 
Rigby. 

“ I came here quite by chance,” the latter explained. 
“ I quite expected to be told that you had not returned 
home yet. Lady Barmouth’s dance might have kept on 
till daylight.” 

“ I had to come away,” Seymour explained. “In fact, 
I lost sight of Anstruther, and it rather put me out. Can 
you tell me anything about him ? But of course you can, 
or you would not be here.” 

Rigby explained at length what had taken place during 
the past hour. Seymour chuckled as he listened. 

“Rather a good joke,” he said. “ Here is Anstruther 
looking for his friend ‘ Simple Charlie,’ whilst all the time 
we have that desirable individual tight by the leg at the 
Great Metropolitan Hotel. I suppose you can pretty 
well guess what’s going to happen ? Anstruther was 
desperately frightened to-night by my allusion to that set 
of Cellini plate. He will know no peace of mind until 
that stuff is removed from Carrington’s private safe. 
There will be another burglary, of a sort, and ‘ Simple 
Charlie ’ has been selected to open the safe. You see, as 
the safe is not in the vaults, but in Carrington’s private 
office, it would never do to use dynamite there.” 

“That is all very well,” Rigby objected. “But how 
is Anstruther going to make use of 1 Simple Charlie ’ so 
long as the latter is in our hands? That seems to be 
rather an objection.” 

“Oh, I have thought all that out,” Seymour laughed. 
“ From what you told me just now, it is evident that 


The Yellow Face 


3°8 

Anstruther means to leave a note for his pal if the latter is 
away. In the event of * Simple Charlie ' being profes- 
sionally engaged elsewhere to-morrow night, he will be 
asked to find a substitute. As we are perfectly well aware 
of the fact that there is no chance of Anstruther finding 
his friend at home, it is only logical to assume that he 
will leave the note behind. In a few moments that note 
will be in our possession, and we shall be in a position to 
read it at leisure. Then I will take it the first thing in the 
morning round to the Great Metropolitan Hotel, and 
force ‘ Simple Charlie ’ to write a suitable reply. Do you 
follow me ? ’ ’ 

“ Oh, quite,” Rigby said. “You are going to choose 
your own substitute. Have you fixed upon him yet ? ” 

Seymour chuckled in reply, but declined to afford any 
information for the present. He suggested that Rigby 
should go outside and see if Anstruther had gone yet. 
Rigby came back presently with information to the effect 
that the burglar’s outer door was locked, thus fairly as- 
suming that Anstruther had executed his task and had 
gone. Seymour produced the simple apparatus by means 
of which he had entered the burglar’s rooms on the last 
occasion. 

“I am going to get that letter,” he explained simply. 
“You need not have any fear about me. Open the win- 
dow, please.” 

In less than five minutes Seymour was back again with 
the letter in his hand. He laid it on the table, and then 
proceeded to steam the envelope open with the aid of a 
kettle of hot water which he procured from the kitchen. 

There was very little in the letter, but that little was to 
the point. The writer curtly commanded the recipient 
to meet him to-morrow night at a quarter to twelve out- 
side the Mansion House Station of the Underground 
Railway. The recipient was enjoined to come prepared 
for business, and the last three words had been under- 
lined. In the event of this being impossible, “Simple 
Charlie” was asked to procure a substitute, and let the 
writer of the letter know this not later than ten o’clock 


The Trap is Baited 309 

the next morning at the old address and* in the old way. 
It was perfectly plain. 

“ You see exactly what this means, ” Seymour said. 
“ I take it that the old address means Panton Square. 
But ‘ Simple Charlie ’ will have to tell me all about that in 
the morning. He shall write to Anstruther and put every- 
thing in order first. I have prepared a very pretty little 
surprise for Anstruther." 

Seymour chuckled again, but refused to gratify Rigby’s 
curiosity. He was taking no risks, he said ; he even went 
so far as to seal down the letter again and return it to the 
burglar’s rooms. 

“We cannot afford to make a single mistake,’’ he said. 
“ Any little slip might ruin the whole delicate business.” 

There was nothing further to do, at least, so far as the 
night was concerned. It was getting very late now, and 
Rigby declined Seymour’s offer of a whiskey and soda and 
cigar. He turned as though to go, and held out his hand 
to Seymour. Then he paused, as a sudden thought struck 
him. 

“There is one thing we have forgotten,” he said. 
“ Don’t you think it would be as well to take Bates into 
our confidence. We had arranged to do so really, but 
when we called an hour or two ago at Shannon Street 
police station he was not in. I don’t know whether you 
agree with me or not, but I think he would be extremely 
useful to us just now.” 

Seymour nodded and chuckled. He seemed to be in 
the enjoyment of some good joke which he desired to keep 
to himself. 

“ Oh, we must have Bates in this, by all means. Per- 
haps you would not mind leaving a message as you go 
along, and ask him to be good enough to call here not 
later than nine to-morrow morning. I think I can promise 
Inspector Bates that his time with me will not be wasted. 
And now, if you must go ’ ’ 

Rigby took the hint and departed. He left the message 
for Bates, who, he was informed, might not be at the 
office the whole of the next day. This being so, Rigby 


3 10 


The Yellow Face 


rose early, and made his way to Shannon Street police 
station directly after breakfast. He was fortunate enough 
to catch Bates, who appeared to be in a tremendous hurry. 
He had five minutes to spare, he explained, but a quarter 
of an hour had elapsed before Bates rose and rang his 
bell. 

“The other business must wait,” he said. “Impor- 
tant as it is, I will go and call on Seymour at once.” 


CHAPTER XLIV 


THE SUBSTITUTE 

It was nearly eleven o’clock before Bates reached Sey- 
mour’s rooms. He listened patiently to all that the latter 
had to say, and he chuckled grimly when Seymour’s plot 
was laid before him. 

“Upon my word, sir, you ought to have been in the 
force yourself,” he exclaimed. “I never heard a neater 
scheme. I have been puzzling my brains the last day 
or two for some way of getting hold of Anstruther. I 
can nobble Carrington at any moment ; in fact, I have 
a warrant for his arrest in my pocket now. You see, 
I can easily prove that he has been disposing of his 
clients’ securities, but that hardly affects Anstruther. I 
suppose you want me to go round to the Great Metro- 
politan Hotel, and compel * Simple Charlie ’ to act as 
bonnet for us. I have not the slightest doubt that he will 
be able to find a good substitute if he likes. But there 
is one little difficulty in the way which you have not 
thought of.” 

“Oh, yes, I have,” Seymour replied. “I know per- 
fectly well what you mean. You mean that even a 
burglar has some code of honor, and that he would 
hesitate to betray a pal into such a trap as this. But if the 
substitute that I have in my mind is acceptable to you, 
there is no reason for further anxiety.” 

Seymour scribbled a name on a sheet of paper, and 
handed it across to Bates. The latter laughed as he 
read it. 

“Oh, most assuredly you ought to have been in the 
force,” he said. “The thing is so clever, and yet so de- 
lightfully simple.” 

Meanwhile, Masefield was carrying out his side of the 
programme. 


3 11 


The Yellow Face 


3 12 

He saw Rigby once or twice during the day, and the 
latter informed him that everything was going splendidly. 

“ I was at the Great Metropolitan Hotel this morning,” 
he explained ; “ in fact, I was present at the interview 
between Bates and a man known as * Simple Charlie.* 
We had not the slightest difficulty in getting that rascal 
to do everything that we wish. He seemed ready to do 
anything to save his own skin. As I told you just now, 
the old address mentioned in Anstruther’ s letter was 
Panton Square. By ten o’clock this morning Anstruther 
had received a letter, in ‘ Simple Charlie’s ’ handwriting, 
saying that it was quite impossible for him to come him- 
self, but that he would send an efficient substitute, who 
would meet Anstruther at the Mansion House Station at 
the appointed time. All you have to do now is to invite 
yourself to dinner at Panton Square, and in the course of 
the evening you will be pretty sure to hear the music going 
on in the study as usual. Of course, Anstruther will not 
be there, but that will make no difference to the harmonic 
programme. And mind you listen carefully for the original 
piece of music you heard last night.” 

“How are you going to manage that?” Jack asked. 

“Well, you see, we have divided ourselves up into 
three companies,” Rigby explained. “You are going to 
look after Panton Square, Bates and Seymour will engineer 
the campaign as far as the City and Provincial Bank is 
concerned, and I am going to have supper with Padini. 
He elected that the supper should take place in his own 
room at the hotel. You can guess why.” 

Jack began to see matters more clearly now. The task 
allotted to himself was plain and simple. He would have 
preferred something more in the way of adventure ; but, 
after all, somebody must do the ordinary work. He 
managed to see Anstruther in the afternoon, and intimated 
to him that he was dining in Panton Square that night. 
Anstruther replied that he was glad to hear it ; possibly, 
Jack thought, because there would be an ear-witness to 
prove the music in the study. 

It was nearly eight o’clock when Jack strolled into the 


The Substitute 


3*3 

drawing-room of Panton Square, and found Claire alone 
there. He deemed it prudent not to tell her too much of 
what had taken place the last few hours ; indeed, he was 
more concerned to hear the latest information about 
Serena. 

“I have not seen much of her to-day,” Claire said. 
“ I do not know what to make of her at all. Last night 
late she came into my bedroom, and we had a long talk 
about her boy. It is a very strange thing, Jack, that only 
this morning a man arrived to see my guardian — a man 
who seemed to be annoyed at Mr. Anstruther’ s refusal 
to pay him a sum of money. I happened to overhear a 
few words as they parted. The stranger declared that if 
he did not have something definite by Saturday, * he would 
send the kid back.’ I should have thought nothing of 
this unless I had heard Serena’s story last night, but, 
taken in conjunction with what she said, I shouldn’t 
wonder if the man in question had not the custody of the 
poor woman’s child.” 

“This is interesting,” Jack said. “Did you take any 
particular note of the man’s appearance? ” 

Claire replied that she had not failed to do so. But 
she had not followed him, though her suspicions were 
aroused. Jack debated the thing in his mind for a 
moment before he spoke again. 

“We know perfectly well,” he said, “ that Anstruther 
is terribly pressed for ready money. He is certain not to 
send that check, and it is equally certain that the man 
will call again for the cash on Saturday morning. It will 
be an easy matter to get Bates to lend me a plain clothes 
man and follow the fellow wherever he goes. But you 
must understand ” 

What more Jack would have said was prevented by the 
entrance of Anstruther, closely followed by the announce- 
ment of dinner. It was not a gay meal, for the host was 
moody and depressed. He talked brilliantly at times, then 
lapsed into a reverie, and appeared not to hear when 
spoken to. Claire rose presently with a sigh of relief, glad 
to get away from the gloom of the dining-room and its 


The Yellow Face 


3H 

depressing atmosphere. Anstruther smoked half a cigar- 
ette, and then threw the end down impatiently. 

“ I must really get you to excuse me,” he said. “ But 
my head is so bad that I can hardly hold it up. I am 
afraid that even my music will fail to soothe me to-night.” 

Jack murmured something in the way of polite sym- 
pathy. He was glad of the opportunity to be able to 
escape to the drawing-room, where he sat for a long time 
discussing the situation with Claire. It was pleasant and 
soothing to sit there with his arm about her and her head 
lovingly upon his shoulder ; but, happy as they were, they 
could not altogether shake off the feeling of impending 
evil. All this time the music of the violin floated mourn- 
fully from the study. Eleven o’clock struck, and still the 
melody went on. Claire roused herself a little presently, 
and a look of pleased interest crossed her pretty face. 

“What a delightful little composition,” she said. “I 
have never heard that before. I am quite sure that is 
original.” 

“Listen very carefully,” Jack said. “ I want you to 
impress that piece of music on your mind.” 

The piece was finished at length, and then repeated 
once more. As the last strains died away, Claire rose 
from her comfortable seat and crossed over to the piano. 
Very quietly, yet quite correctly, she went through the 
whole composition. 

“ I am glad it has so impressed you,” Jack said. 
“You will, perhaps, be surprised to hear that Anstruther 
has never heard that piece of music in his life, and that it 
was composed by Padini, who has never played it to any- 
body till last night, when he performed it for Rigby’s 
benefit. Not only this, but he gave Dick Rigby the origi- 
nal manuscript to get published for him. I know this is 
only a small matter, but these small matters will make a 
mountain of evidence against Anstruther when the time 
comes.” 

“ It is very extraordinary,” Claire murmured, “ to think 
that that music should sound so charming and natural, 
when we know that all the time the player is a mile or 


The Substitute 


3*5 

two away. You are sure that my guardian is not in his 
study, Jack? ” 

Jack was sure enough on that point. It was a few mo- 
ments later that Serena came quietly into the room with a 
request that Mr. Masefield would go to the telephone, as 
some one desired to speak to him on pressing business. 
Jack rose with alacrity. 

“ I shall soon be able to prove to you that Anstruther is 
a long way off, or I am very much mistaken/’ he said. 
“Very well, Serena, I will come down at once.” 

The voice at the other end of the telephone inquired 
cautiously if that were Mr. Masefield. Jack replied that 
it was, but even then the questioner did not appear to be 
satisfied. 

“I think I recognize your voice,” he said, “but one 
has to be very careful in sending messages to Panton 
Square. How goes the music ? Anything original to- 
night ? ’ ’ 

“ One piece,” Jack smiled. “ I know what you mean, 
and I don’t mind making you a small bet that you are In- 
spector Bates. ’ ’ 

The voice at the other end of the telephone chuckled. 

“ You have got it quite right, Mr. Masefield,” he said. 
“Iam Bates sure enough. And you needn’t worry about 
going down- stairs to see whether or not Anstruther is 
playing at Paganini, because he isn’t on the premises at 
all.” 

“ Where are you speaking from? ” Jack asked. 

Bates replied that he was speaking from a public call 
office in the neighborhood of Mansion House Station. All 
he wanted to do was to make sure that Jack was still in 
Panton Square, and now that his mind was easy on this 
score, he could devote himself to the serious business of 
the evening. Anstruther had just been shadowed outside 
the Mansion House Station, where he was apparently 
waiting for the substitute so kindly provided for him by 
“ Simple Charlie.” 

The message ceased here, and the connection was cut 
off. Jack would have been just a little surprised if he had 


The Yellow Face 


3 j 6 

seen the transmogrified Bates who had been speaking to 
him over the line. The inspector crossed the road and 
disappeared into the shadow. Anstruther stood there, 
glancing impatiently up and down the road as if waiting 
for somebody that was late. A figure slouched up to him, 
and a hoarse voice whispered in his ear : 

“ Party of the name of Maggs,” he said in his gin and 
fog voice. “Pal of ‘Simple Charlie.’ Old Charlie 
couldn’t get away to-night, so he sent me instead. Don’t 
you be disappointed, guv’ nor; you will find me just as 
clever with them bits of steel as Charles himself. Bit of 
burglary, ain’t it? ” 

Anstruther nodded curtly. 

“We had better walk along,” he said. “I suppose 
your friend explained to you that this little job will put 
twenty pounds in your pocket ? It is a mere matter of 
opening a safe. The getting into the premises is per- 
fectly simple, because I have come provided with the keys. 
You know the City and Provincial Bank ? ” 

The other man grinned, and remarked that banks 
generally were a bit above his form. Anstruther smiled 
as he reflected that he had the keys of the bank premises 
proper in his pocket, so that there would be no great 
difficulty in getting into the counting house, and from 
there to Carrington's private office. As to the night 
watchmen — that was another matter altogether. In the 
face of recent happenings, they would be more alert than 
they had been in the past ; but, at the same time, their 
attention would be bestowed more upon the cellars than 
the office. 

The road was entirely deserted now, as Anstruther 
crossed the street and gently turned the key in the outer 
door. A moment later, and the pair were in Carrington’s 
private office. They could afford to turn the lights up, for 
the iron shutters outside made a perfect screen. In one 
corner of the room stood the safe upon which the man 
who called himself Maggs was intended to operate. An- 
struther pointed at it impatiently. 


The Substitute 


3 l 7 

“ Get to work at once,” he said. “ There is something 
inside that I must take away to-night.” 

“A fine set of Cellini plate, I presume?” Maggs said, 
in an entirely different voice. “ No, you don’t, Mr. An- 
struther. If you put your hand in your hip pocket, I’ll 
blow your brains out. I have the advantage of you here, 
and I am going to keep it.” 

“Who the deuce are you?” Anstruther stammered. 
His hands had fallen to his side, and his face was pale 
and ghastly. “ Who are you ? ” 

The so-called burglar snatched away his wig and ragged 
beard, and with a handkerchief changed the aspect of his 
face. 

“I am Inspector Bates,” he said. “Very much at 
your service.” 


CHAPTER XLV 


CAUGHT ! 

Bates had laid his plans very carefully and very well 
indeed. In many respects Rigby had got the best of the 
detective, but this was as much due to circumstances as 
anything else. Still, when it came to the technical side 
of the case, Rigby was no match for the inspector. It 
was nearly nine o’clock before Bates called at Carrington’s 
rooms and asked to see the latter. There was no occasion 
yet for Bates to assume the very effective disguise with 
which he was to trick Anstruther. There would be plenty 
of time for that. Carrington was just finishing his dinner 
— so his man said. He was not very well, and did not 
care to see anybody. But Bates put the man aside in his 
own easy way, and walked into the dining-room without 
the trouble of announcing himself. 

That Carrington was suffering from some mental and 
physical excitement was perfectly plain. His face was 
ghastly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a 
twitching of his lips which told a plain tale to an experi- 
enced officer like Bates. Carrington scowled, and de- 
manded the meaning of this unwarrantable intrusion. 

“ I don’t think you will find it unwarrantable when 
you have heard me to the finish,” Bates said. “Nor will 
it pay you to take this tone with me. I am an inspector 
from Scotland Yard, and unless you answer my questions 
freely, I shall have to put them in a more disagreeable 
form.” 

Carrington changed his note altogether. His face be- 
came still more pallid. He motioned Bates to a chair. 
He would have found it hard to have spoken just then. 
Bates waited a moment to give the other time to recover. 
Carrington at length found words to ask Bates what his 
business was with him. 


Caught! 319 

“It is with regard to your affair at the bank,” the 
inspector explained. “You may not be aware of the 
fact, but the case has been placed in my hands by my 
superiors. ” 

“ Oh, you are alluding to the burglary,” Carrington 
said. 

“ We will call it a burglary for the present,” Bates re- 
plied, with a significance that there was no mistaking. 
“ I have gone into the matter carefully, and I have come 
to the conclusion that there was no burglary at all.” 

Carrington jumped to his feet with a well-simulated 
air of indignation. .He advanced towards Bates threat- 
eningly. 

“You insolent scoundrel ! ” he cried. “ What do you 
mean ? Do you know you are dealing with a gentleman 
and man of honor ? ’ ’ 

“ Softly, softly,” Bates replied. “ I think we had better 
understand one another. I have in my possession at the 
present moment a warrant for your arrest Tor fraud and 
embezzlement, relating to certain- jewels and other valu- 
ables deposited in your keeping by various clients. It is 
in my power to execute that warrant at once. The case 
is much too serious a one for bail, and it is for you to say 
whether you will remain for the present in your com- 
fortable quarters, or pass, at any rate, the next two months 
in jail.” 

Carrington made no further show of fight. He col- 
lapsed into his chair, and wiped his wet forehead dis- 
tractedly. 

“You don’t mean that,” he groaned. “There must 
be some terrible mistake here. Why, all the evidences 
pointed to an ingenious and daring burglary. The night 
watchmen were drugged, as you know, and the thieves 
employed dynamite to blow up the safes. No one regrets 
the loss of all those valuables more than I do, but even 
banks are not secure against the modern burglar. Those 
safes were crammed full of valuables, as I could easily 
prove. ’ ’ 

“They were,” Bates corrected. “ But I am in a posi- 


The Yellow Face 


3 20 

tion to prove a few things, too. You would give a great 
deal, I suppose, to know where those valuables are? ” 

Carrington replied to the effect that he would give 
half his fortune for the desired information. Bates 
smiled. 

“You need not worry about it,” he said. “ I have a 
list in my pocket of the big pawnbrokers in London where 
most of the goods were pledged. In three cases the 
pawnbrokers in question are in a position to swear to the 
identity of the man who handled the jewels. You would 
not, of course, mind meeting these people?” 

But Carrington had no reply. He looked so helplessly 
at Bates that the latter could not but feel sorry for him. 

“I am afraid the game is up, sir,” he said. “ My in- 
vestigations of this case prove most conclusively that 
you are at the bottom of the whole thing. We know per- 
fectly well that recent speculations of yours have brought 
about a financial crisis in your bank. In your desperate 
need, you realized the securities which certain clients had 
left in your hands. It was only when Lady Barmouth 
called for her gems that the situation became acute. But 
that will form the basis of another charge.” 

“But that was all a mistake,” Carrington gurgled 
eagerly. “ I sent Lady Barmouth her gems, but they 
proved to be those belonging to somebody else. I assure 
you that was quite an error.” 

Bates shrugged his shoulders impatiently. He was 
getting annoyed with this, man, who refused to follow his 
lead. 

“We know all about that ingenious fraud,” he said. 
“We are quite aware of that clever business of the paste 
gems, for which you gave ^200 at Clerkenwell. You 
paid for that rubbish with Bank of England notes marked 
with the stamp of your establishment. It was a very 
happy idea of yours and Anstruther’s.” 

Carrington groaned feebly ; he began to fear the very 
worst. 

“You seem to know everything,” he said. “Perhaps 
you can tell me the story of the burglary ? ” 


3 21 


Caught ! 

“I am coming to that presently,” Bates said coolly. 
“Now you were at your wits’ ends to know what to do. 
You knew perfectly well that many of your clients would 
require their jewels for Lady Barmouth’s dance. They 
were not forthcoming, for the simple reason that they had 
been pledged elsewhere. You had not the necessary 
cunning to devise some scheme to shift the blame from 
your shoulders, so you called in your friend Anstruther. 
It was he who hit upon the idea of the burglary. It was 
you who placed temptation in the way of the night watch- 
men through the medium of a couple of bottles of drugged 
port wine. After that the rest was easy. You had only 
to enter the bank with your own keys ’ ’ 

“Stop a moment,” Carrington cried eagerly. “You 
seem to forget that even I cannot enter the vaults of the 
bank without duplicate keys in the possession of various 
cashiers.” 

“Now, listen to me,” Bates said impressively. “This 
discussion is absolutely irregular. It is my plain duty to 
arrest you at once and convey you to Bow Street. But 
if you help me, I may be in the position later on to do you 
a service. We know precisely how Anstruther used the 
dynamite ; we know precisely what happened in the 
vaults, and how most of the few valuables that remained 
were conveyed to your own private safe. More than that, 
we are perfectly well aware what fee Anstruther demanded 
for his trouble. Need I go into the matter of that service 
of Cellini plate ? ” 

Carrington threw up his hands with a gesture of despair. 
He was crushed and beaten to the ground by the tre- 
mendous weight of evidence with which Bates was over- 
whelming him. 

“ It is no use fighting any longer,” he said. “ I confess 
to everything. I shall plead guilty, and afford you every 
information in my power. Do you want me to come along 
with you now? ” 

On the whole, Bates rather thought not. He had 
effected his purpose, and sooner or later Carrington would 
have to become his prisoner. He knew that the latter 


The Yellow Face 


3 22 

would speak freely enough, like the craven coward that he 
was ; but there was Anstruther to be thought of. Bates 
rose to leave. 

“ You can remain where you are for the present," he 
said. “ But if you will take my advice, you will make no 
attempt to escape — you are too carefully watched for that ; 
and now, good-night." 

Bates went off in the direction of the City feeling that 
the last hour had not been wasted. On the strength of 
recent information, he would have felt justified in arrest- 
ing Anstruther also. But he had a wholesome admiration 
for that individual, and the more evidence secured against 
him the better. Therefore it was that Bates was about to 
carry out the latter part of the programme, in w hich he 
was to play the part of substitute for “Simple Charlie." 
The programme had been easily arranged. There had 
been no difficulty in persuading the burglar to write the 
desired letter to Anstruther, and Bates had made up his 
mind from the first that the mythical Maggs should be 
none other than himself. From first to last the thing 
worked admirably. Anstruther was utterly deceived by 
the detective’s admirable disguise, which he had assumed 
after leaving Carrington, and had fallen headlong into the 
trap. 

Therefore it was that the two men stood facing One 
another in Carrington’s office. Anstruther white and 
furious, Bates coolly contemptuous, with a revolver in his 
hand. 

“What have you to say for yourself?" Bates asked. 
“ Have you any reason to show why I should not take 
you straight ro Bow Street on the charge of burglary ? ’ ’ 

Anstruther was fighting hard to regain possession of 
himself. Bates could not but admire the marvelous cour- 
age of the man. Anstruther’s laugh had something quite 
genuine about it. 

“We are making a great fuss over a little thing," he 
said. “ I came here because Mr. Carrington was not well 
enough to accompany me. There are certain things of 
mine in my friend’s private safe here, and unfortunately 


3 2 3 


Caught ! 

he has lost the key. It was imperative that I should have 
my property to-night, and that will, perhaps, explain my 
presence here. Does that satisfy you ? ” 

“ I should be easily satisfied if it did,” Bates said 
coolly. “I should like to know, for instance, why you 
require the .'assistance of a professional burglar. I know 
perfectl/ \v£ll that ybti called in the assistance of ‘ Simple 
Charlie,’ but I was in a position to force that individual’s 
hand — hence my* appearance in his place.” 

“Really, Mr. Bates,” An^trut her smiled. “ I had ex- 
pected better thiftgs^ from y&toif You are perfectly well 
aware of the fact that I am acquainted With half the 
thieves in London. It was no use^asking any safe-maker 
in London to try to pick that lock, because it happens to 
be a French make. In such awkward c^.um^nces as this 
it is no new thing to call in a cracksma^.whenvthings are 
wanted in a hurry.” 

“I am afraid that won’t do,” Bates sKd. “ You had 
plenty of time to call in legitimate assistance, whereas so 
recently as last night you visited ‘ Simple Charlie ’ and 
left a note for him. ’ ’ 

Anstruther smiled politely. He was perfectly cool and 
collected now — a match for any detective in the force. 

“We can settle the matter in two minutes,” he said*.* 
“All you have to do is to call in one of your men from 
outside and send a note to Carrington, who will repty to 
the effect that I am here with his full knowledge and con- 
sent.” 

“ Can’t do it,” Bates said curtly. “I have no man to 
send. As a matter of fact, I am alone in this business.” * 

Anstruther bent down his head to conceal a smile. 
There was something devilish in the cunning ferocity of 
his eyes. He had discovered an important fact, and Bates 
did not seem to understand for the moment what he had 
given away. He felt quite sure that he had matters in his 
own hands now. He strolled slowly round the table, and 
proceeded to examine carefully the lock of the safe. 

“ Do you really think you could open this ?” he asked. 
“ If you could I should have no difficulty in proving to 


3 2 4 


The Yellow Face 


you ” Anstruther broke off suddenly; his left foot 

shot out dexterously, and Bates came half stumbling on 
his knees. Like lightning Anstruther grabbed for the 
revolver. He had Bates’s wrist in a grip of steel, forcing 
his hand back till the fingers were bound to relax their 
grip on the weapon. A moment later the revolver was 
kicked away, and the two men were struggling desperately 
on the floor. 

There was no mistaking the look on Anstruther’ s face. 
He was going to murder Bates if he could. It would 
never do for any living soul to know that he was here to- 
night. Once Bates’s mouth was silenced forever, he 
could hurry back to Panton Square, and there prove such 
an alibi as would hold good in any legal court in the world. 
All these things passed through that wily brain as his hands 
clutched closer at Bates’s throat. 

It was touch and go with the latter. The only thing he 
could do was to fight for his breath, and husband his 
strength for a final effort later on. He looked straight 
into the gleaming eyeballs of his assailant now, but he 
could not see the faintest suggestion of pity there. The 
world began to dance before his eyes ; a thousand stars 
seemed to be bursting from the dark sky ; then came along 
the corridor the echo of fast-approaching footsteps. 

“ Curse it,” Anstruther muttered. “Another moment, 
and I should have been safe. Take that, you hound.” 

With one final blow he jumped to his feet, and, sprint- 
ing across the office floor, darted into the shadow of the 
night. 


CHAPTER XLVI 


THE MUSIC STOPS 

Bates was sitting up in bed nursing an aching head, 
and plotting out schemes whereby he could best retrieve 
the disaster of the previous night. It was fortunate for 
the inspector that one of Carrington’s night watchmen 
should have heard something of the disturbance on the 
previous night, and come hotfoot to his assistance. There 
was no great damage done beyond a bruised face and a 
general shock to the system. Bates felt all the better for a 
good night’s rest, and was quite ready now to carry on the 
campaign against his powerful foe. It was some time in 
the afternoon before Jack Masefield put in an appearance 
at Bates’s lodgings, having been summoned there by a 
special messenger. Jack smiled as he noticed Bates’s 
somewhat dilapidated condition. 

“ What’s the matter? ” he asked. “ You do not seem 
to have been as successful as you might — I mean over last 
night’s business. Was the thing a failure, or were you 
satisfied ? ” 

Bates explained that up to now the battle was a drawn 
one. He had a feeling that Jack would be able to help 
him, and that was why he asked him to call this after- 
noon. 

“ I am not in the least dissatisfied with my last night’s 
work,” he explained. “In the first place, we have Car- 
rington absolutely at our mercy. I let him know what we 
have discovered, and he will do anything for us that we 
desire. After that, I played the part of the mythical 
Maggs, and in due course disclosed myself to Mr. An- 
struther. Perhaps I was a little too confident ; anyway, 
I gave him a chance to murder me, and he responded to 
the opportunity with absolute enthusiasm. But for the 

3*5 


The Yellow Face 


326 

opportune arrival of the night watchman, Scotland Yard 
would have lost one of its most distinguished ornaments. 
It was a very near thing, I assure you." 

“But what could he possibly gain by that?" Jack 
asked. 

“ Well, you see, I had let him know that I was quite 
alone in the business," said Bates. “ At the same time, 
he was not aware that my information was so complete. 
If he could murder me and get safe home without being 
detected, he was in a position to prove an absolute alibi. 
Of course, I did not dream that I was running any risk 
of my life — but that is not the point. You will remember 
my suggesting to you yesterday the advisability of you 
dining in Panton Square last night. I suppose that was 
all right ? " 

Jack replied that he had followed Bates’s instructions 
out implicitly. He had done all he could in that way. 

“Very well, then. You see what I am driving at. I 
take it for granted that Anstruther’s mysterious musical 
friend was much in evidence last night. I have no doubt 
that Miss Helmsley and yourself listened with rapt atten- 
tion to the music in the study." 

“ We had every opportunity of doing so," Jack said. 

“ That is precisely what I expected. Anstruther must 
have left the house a little after ten o’clock, and I don’t 
see how it was possible for him to return much before 
half-past twelve. I suppose you didn’t happen to see him 
when he came in ? " 

“Indeed I did," Jack said. “It was quite half-past 
twelve when I was leaving the house. The music was 
still in progress, but when I slipped out of the front door, 
Anstruther was rapidly approaching the house running 
across the lawn. He seemed very much annoyed and 
put out when he saw me, and muttered something to the 
effect that he had heard somebody trying the front door. 
I understood him to say that he had not been out all the 
evening, but that was all nonsense. I could see by his 
boots that he had been walking some considerable distance. 
Of course, you see what the dodge is : he does not leave 


The Music Stops 327 

the house by the door, but by the French window leading 
from the study to the garden. This window he leaves un- 
fastened, so that he can get back at any time without a 
soul being any the wiser. Of course, there was always a 
chance of somebody finding the window unlatched, but 
that is a small matter.” 

“ Is the window always left open?” Bates asked 
thoughtfully. 

Jack replied that he thought so. Bates smiled with the 
air of a man who is perfectly well satisfied. 

“ I am going to get up presently,” he said. “After I 
have had a bath and some tea, I shall be quite fit for duty 
again. I want you to find some pretext for calling at An- 
struther’s just after dinner, because I may need your as- 
sistance.” 

“ What are you going to do?” Jack asked eagerly. 

“ Well, in the first place I am going to arrest Mr. An- 
struther,” Bates replied. “ In the second instance, I have 
another little scheme, which we need not discuss now. I 
want you to go as far as Mr. Rigby’s chambers and get 
him to keep an eye on Padini, and see that last night’s 
programme is repeated, if possible. This is rather an im- 
portant thing. I think I can trust Mr. Rigby to manage 
it.” 

Jack went off obediently enough, and subsequently ran 
Rigby to earth at the offices of the Planet . The latter 
seemed delighted at the turn which affairs were taking. 
He began to see now that he would be able to carry out 
for his paper the series of sensational articles required by 
the proprietor. 

“ We shall have a splendid scoop,” he said. “ Indeed, 
one might almost make a three-volume novel out of it. I 
am only too sorry that I can’t be at Anstruther’s to-night 
and witness the arrest. I shall leave you to supply all the 
graphic details. I can easily manage the Padini business 
this evening by writing to the fellow that I have a check 
to pay over and shall call at his rooms late to-night. 
I am sure to find him there. He is very hard up, and the 
money is certain to fetch him.” 


The Yellow Face 


328 

“ There are other things connected with this business,” 
Jack said, “ which puzzle me. For instance, there is that 
affair of the mysterious Mr. Ferris, whose acquaintance I 
made at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. 1 am quite sure, 
also, that Seymour has some deep design on hand. You 
may be absolutely certain that that business of the crystal 
ball played off on Anstruther at Lady Barmouth’s dance 
the other night was not mere flummery.” 

Rigby was of the same opinion. He was anxious to 
know if anything had been yet done in the matter of Car- 
rington’s private safe and the service of Cellini plate which 
Anstruther had coolly appropriated for himself. But on 
this point Jack had no information to offer. He did not 
doubt that the whole thing would be explained in a few 
hours now. He killed the day as best he could, and af- 
ter dinner turned his steps in the direction of Panton 
Square. Mr. Anstruther and Miss Helmsley had practic- 
ally finished, Serena explained, but they had not yet left 
the dining-room. Anstruther raised his brows signifi- 
cantly as Jack entered the dining-room, but his manner 
was polite and cordial enough as he invited the visitor to 
a seat and a glass of claret. He did not look in the least 
perturbed or put out ; on the contrary, Jack had seldom 
seen him so easy and self-possessed. His neuralgia was 
quite gone. He had charmed it away as usual, he said 
with the soothing aid of music. 

“ How is it you never bring your violin up to the draw- 
ing-room ? ” Claire asked. “We hardly ever have any 
duets together.” 

“ After next week,” Anstruther promised. “ Really, I 
am a great deal more busy than I appear to be, and I feel 
it quite easy to play and think at the same time.” 

Jack glanced across the table significantly at Claire, and 
she seemed to divine what he was thinking about. 

“I thought I knew most of your music,” she said, 
“but there was one little item last night that took my 
fancy immensely. I feel quite sure that you composed it 
yourself.” 

Anstruther disclaimed any such gift. Fond as he was 


The Music Stops 329 

of his violin, it had never occurred to him to try his hand 
at original composition. 

“All the same, I really must get it,” Claire persisted. 
“I am sorry that you do not recall the piece at all. If 
you will come into the drawing-room with me, and can 
spare me a few minutes, I will strum the piece over to 
you. It so fascinated me that I committed it to memory. 
Do come along for a moment.” 

Anstruther laughed, as Jack thought, rather uneasily. 
He tried skilfully enough to divert the conversation into 
another channel, but Claire’s enthusiasm refused to be 
baffled. Anstruther's face darkened for a moment, and 
there was a look in his eyes that boded ill to somebody. 
He rose and walked across towards the door, and up the 
stairs in the direction of the drawing-room.. 

“Very well, if you must,” he said. “I can give you 
ten minutes. I dare say it is some silly trifle that I have 
heard somewhere without recognizing its source.” 

Claire seated herself at the piano, and played the little 
piece off with both brilliancy and feeling. As a matter of 
fact, she had been practicing it several times during the 
afternoon until she had it absolutely correct. The slow, 
mournful chords died away at length, and then Claire 
turned to her guardian with a smile. 

“That is it,” she said. “ That is the little piece that 
so fascinated me last night. Surely you can tell me the 
name of it and where it came from ? ” 

The question was apparently simple enough, but An- 
struther appeared to be absolutely incapable of answering 
it. 

“ Do you mean to say you could forget a thing like 
that?” Claire protested. “It seems to me impossible.” 

“ Perhaps it made less impression upon me than it did 
you,” Anstruther muttered. “ I haven’t the slightest 
recollection of playing it myself. In fact ” 

Anstruther broke off in absolute confusion. The inci- 
dent, trivial as it seemed, had upset him altogether. He 
was about to betray himself by saying that he had never 
heard the piece before, and that it had no place amongst 


33o 


The Yellow Face 


his music ; but he pulled himself up just in time. He 
bitterly blamed Padini’s carelessness. It was no part of 
the programme for his double to give him anything but 
pieces of music with which he was absolutely familiar. 
What he might have said and done was frustrated by the 
appearance of Serena, who announced that a gentleman 
down-stairs desired to see Mr. Anstruther. 

Jack felt his pulses beating a little faster, for he had 
had no reason to inquire who the stranger was. Serena’s 
eyes were demure and downcast as usual as she replied 
to Anstruther’s question that the gentleman down-stairs 
was none other than Inspector Bates, of Scotland Yard. 
Only just for an instant did Anstruther falter and turn 
pale, then he was absolutely himself again. He almost 
wished now that he had not waited so long. He had his 
ingenious alibi, it was true, but even that might fail. 
There were so many meshes in the nets of Scotland Yard. 
In a calm, even voice he ordered Serena to show the 
stranger up-stairs. Bates came at length, a little pallid 
and bruised, but otherwise little worse for his last night’s 
adventure. 

“ And what might be your business with me, in- 
spector?” Anstruther asked. “It is some time since I 
had the pleasure of meeting you. Will you please take a 
seat ? ’ ’ 

“I do not see the necessity,” Bates responded. “As 
my business is private, perhaps you will be good enough 
to follow me to your study. I will speak if you like, 
but ” 

“You may say anything you please,” Anstruther said 
defiantly. 

“ Then I arrest you on a warrant, charging you with 
attempted burglary last night,” Bates said pithily. “You 
were on the premises belonging to the City and Provincial 
Bank with a felonious intent of breaking into a safe be- 
tween the hours of eleven and half-past twelve. Need I 
say any more? ” 

“ Amazing,” Anstruther laughed. “ Fortunately I have 
my witnesses at hand to prove that I was not off these 


The Music Stops 331 

premises during the hours you mentioned. As a matter 
of fact, I was in my study playing my violin all the time.” 

“Sounds ingenious,” Bates muttered, “but in these 
days of clever mechanical contrivances — by the way, is 
not some one playing the violin down-stairs now? ” 

Despite his command of himself, a furious curse broke 
from Anstruther’s lips. For even as Bates spoke, there 
came sounds of liquid melody from the study. Not only 
was this so, but, furthermore, the piece in question was 
precisely the same as the one that Claire had just been 
playing over to her guardian. The girl rose to her feet, 
and looked across at Jack significantly. Bates smiled in 
the manner of one who has solved a great problem. 

“Really, a most remarkable coincidence,” he said. 
“I am afraid this rather spoils the simple beauty of your 
alibi, Mr. Anstruther; unless, perhaps, you have some 
friend who entertains your household at such times as 
business calls you elsewhere. But let us go down-stairs 
and see for ourselves.” 

“ No, no,” Anstruther cried furiously. “You shall not 
do it. You shall not interfere. I’ll kill you first.” 

“Come along,” Bates responded. “Come with me 
and witness the solving of the mysterious problem.” 


CHAPTER XLVII 


“A WOMAN SCORNED” 

It was plainly evident that Bates believed in his ability 
to solve the problem. Anstruther had quite thrown the 
mask off by this time, and stood glaring vindictively at the 
inspector. It was absolutely maddening to a man of his 
ability to be caught in a sorry trap like this. One of the 
strongest points in Anstruther’ s schemes was the fact that 
hitherto he had always been on the side of the police. He 
had been regarded as one of them, so to speak, so that 
many of his ingenious plots had been guided solely by the 
action of the authorities. It had never once occurred to 
him that he might have been an object of suspicion at 
Scotland Yard. 

“You might just as well take it quietly,” Bates said. 
“ We know the whole thing from start to finish. It will 
go a great deal easier with you if you give us all the in- 
formation that lies in your power and save us trouble.” 

“That is the usual course, I believe,” Anstruther 
sneered. “ But you have a different man to deal with in 
me. I am quite at a loss to understand what you are do- 
ing here at all.” 

Bates shrugged his shoulders, and walked in the direc- 
tion of the door. He had no difficulty in seeing that An- 
struther had made up his mind to see this thing through 
to the bitter end. Therefore, it was quite useless to 
try and get him to see matters in a reasonable light. 
Anstruther stood there, white, silent, and furious, whilst 
all the time the amazing music was going on in the study. 

Mysterious as the whole thing appeared to be, there was 
almost an element of farce in it. Here was the very man 
who relied upon his devotion to his violin to save him in 
the hour of danger, actually listening, so to speak, to his 

33 2 


“A Woman Scorned ” 


333 


own performance. He had little doubt what Bates meant 
to do, for the latter was already half-way down the stairs 
on his way to the study. With a sudden impulse An- 
struther followed. He passed Bates with a rapid stride, 
and, standing with his back to the study door, defied the 
inspector to enter. 

“ You do not seem to understand,” Bates said. “The 
warrant I have for your arrest gives me the right of 
searching the whole house. If you persist in this absurd 
conduct, I shall have to call my men in and remove you 
by force.” 

The two men faced one another, both angry and excited, 
and ready to fly at one another’s throats. And yet the 
whole time their ears were filled with the beautiful melody 
of the music, as it floated from the room behind. 

“ What are we going to do?” Claire asked. She was 
standing with Jack at the top of the staircase. “Is it not 
time that we declared ourselves ? ’ ’ 

Jack whispered to Claire to remain where she was a 
moment, and slipped out of the house into the garden 
unperceived. It had suddenly occurred to him that per- 
haps the window leading from the study to the garden was 
unfastened. He recollected that this was the means by 
which Anstruther left and returned to the house. It would 
have been imprudent on the latter’s part to use the front 
door, and there was not much risk in leaving the study 
window unlatched. 

It was just as Jack had expected. The long French 
window gave to his touch, and a moment later he was in 
the room. As it happened on the previous occasion, he 
could see not the faintest trace of any mechanism by means 
of which the melody was conveyed from the Great Metro- 
politan Hotel to Panton Square. And yet the whole room 
was flooded with it ; rising and falling in triumphant 
strains, as if mocking the intellect of a man who had 
brought this wonderful result about. But there was no 
time to speculate on that, no time for close investigation. 
On the other side of the door the voices of Anstruther and 
Bates were rising to a still more angry pitch, and Claire’s 


334 


The Yellow Face 


tones of expostulation came to Jack’s ears. As he crossed 
the room he could see that the key was in the door. He 
flung it open, and Anstruther came staggering backward 
into the room, closely followed by the detective. 

“You can see that the game is up,” the latter said 
coolly. “ Why not make a clean breast of it ? I shall 
find out how this is done, if I have to pull down the house 
to do it.” 

Anstruther smiled in a scornful kind of way, and flung 
himself doggedly into a seat. He bade Bates do his worst, 
and prophesied that the police would suffer for this indig- 
nity. But Bates was not listening. He was pacing rapidly 
round the room with his ear to the wall, as if scenting out 
some clue to the mystery. A moment later, and there 
came into the room th>e form of Serena. 

One glance at her sufficed to show that she was not the 
Serena whom Jack had known so long. The demure, 
downcast eyes were no longer seeking the floor as of old ; 
there was no shrinking and timidity on the part of the 
woman now. She was changed almost beyond recogni- 
tion. She walked with a firm, elastic tread, her shoulders 
were thrown back, and her head uplifted fearlessly. From 
under his heavy brows Anstruther glanced at her sus- 
piciously. 

“ Go away,” he commanded hoarsely. “ How dare 
you force yourself in here like this ! Go, woman.” 

But the tones of command had evidently lost their 
power. There was no shrinking on Serena’s part. She 
advanced into the middle of the room as if the place be- 
longed to her. 

“ No, no,” she cried in tones as clear and ringing as 
Anstruther’ s own. “ Your power has gone forever. For 
three long patient years I have waited for this moment. 
God only knows what my life has been, and what a hell 
your cruelty has created for me. But the cord is broken 
now. Only to-night I have learned the truth. I have 
been your good and faithful servant ; I have stooped to 
do your hateful work ; I have been the ally of criminals — 
of your creature Redgrave, amongst others ; and all 


“A Woman Scorned ” 335 

because I thought you held my life in the hollow of your 
hand.” 

“ Tell them the story of your boy,” Anstruther sneered. 

“ I will tell them the truth,” Serena cried. “ You said 
you could hang me if you liked. You pretended that in 
my delirium I had taken the life of my darling child. 
You were shielding a murderess, as I thought. But it was 
a black and cruel lie. Give me back my wasted years, 
you coward ; give me back my sleepless nights and dreary 
days. But, thank God, that time has passed. My boy is 
alive — alive ! He is safe in the house at present ! ” 

Anstruther started as if some loathsome insect had stung 
him, then dropped sullenly back in his seat again. Bates 
turned to Serena and called her attention to the music. 

“You seem to be in a communicative mood to-night,” 
he said. “You need not fear any one for the future — 
Redgrave, or anybody else. I understand this last scoun- 
drel is safe in the hands of the New York police, who were 
wanting him badly. Perhaps you can tell us the meaning 
of this extraordinary concert we are listening to. If you 
will be so good ” 

Serena made no reply in words, but crossed to the side 
of the room opposite the door, and tugged at a volume 
which was the centre of a set of some classical dictionary. 
The volume came away quite easily in her hand, bringing 
other dummy books with it ; and then the interested spec- 
tators saw that the books in question were no more than 
painted gauze. In the orifice disclosed by the stripping 
away of the sham, there appeared to be something that 
resembled a mouth of a great silver trumpet. This was 
partly plugged with a set of sensitive metal plates, which 
were evidently intended to act as a diaphragm for the 
record of musical expression. 

“ There you have the whole thing in a nutshell,” Serena 
said, speaking quite naturally and quietly. “ It is very 
ingenious, and yet, at the same time, it is not entirely 
original. It is an adaptation of the theatrephone, in con- 
nection with a somewhat modified form of telephone. 
The recording instrument is situated in my husband’s 


The Yellow Face 


336 

rooms in the Great Metropolitan Hotel, and he has only 
to start his performance there, and the music sounds here 
quite as distinctly as if he were actually playing in this 
apartment. It seems exceedingly simple, now that you 
know how it is done.” 

It did seem simple, indeed, after listening to Serena’s 
explanation. 

Bates turned to Anstruther, and asked him if he had 
anything to say ; but the latter shook his head doggedly. 
He felt quite sure that the game was up, though he had no 
intention whatever of giving himself away. And yet, 
despite his danger, he was still the connoisseur enjoying 
the beautiful music made by Padini’s violin. But to 
Claire, who had crept into the room unobserved, the whole 
thing was horrible and unnatural. Such lovely music as 
Padini was playing now was but a sorry accompaniment to 
all this vulgar crime and intrigue. The girl shuddered, 
and placed her hands over her ears as if to shut out the 
liquid melody. 

“Oh, I wish it would stop,” she said. “ I do wish it 
would stop.” 

As if in answer to this prayer, the long, wailing notes 
died away, and the music fainted into nothingness. At 
the same time, Bates approached the mouth of the trumpet, 
and blew shrilly on his police whistle. There was a pause 
just for an instant, and then, to Jack’s surprise, came the 
voice of Rigby clear and distinct. 

“ Is that you, Inspector Bates ? ” he asked. “ We have 
just finished at this end. I am afraid there will be no 
more music to-night, as two of your detectives have most 
inhospitably insisted upon breaking up our concert, and 
escorting Signor Padini to Shannon Street police station. 
Shall I come round there, or will you come round here ? 
Do you get my voice quite clearly ? ” 

Bates replied grimly that he did. There was no occa- 
sion whatever to trouble Rigby any further to-night. 
Then the inspector turned to Anstruther, and tapped him 
on the shoulder. 

“ I think there is no reason to carry this farce any 


“A Woman Scorned” 


337 

farther,” he said. “You will be good enough to consider 
yourself my prisoner. Would you like to walk to Bow 
Street, or shall I call a cab ? ” 

Anstruther intimated that it was all the same to him. 
He knew perfectly well now that the whole thing was 
exploded. There was something bitter in the reflection 
that he had been found out at last and laid by the heels 
over so paltry a business as the bogus burglary at the City 
and Provincial Bank. 

“ I think I’ll walk,” he said. “ No, you need not call 
any of your men, and you need have no fear of personal 
violence.” 

“ All right,” Bates said. “ Though I am still suffering 
from the shaking up you gave me last night. Come 
along.” 

“ I must apologize for all this trouble,” Anstruther said, 
turning to Claire, and speaking in quite his natural man- 
ner. “I must leave you to manage as best you can for 
the present. I dare say you will be able to manage with 
Serena.” 

He turned curtly on his heel, and walked to the door. 
Of Jack he took no notice whatever. A moment later 
the front door closed sullenly, and Anstruther was 
gone. 

“ The house smells all the sweeter for his absence,” 
Jack said. “ My dearest girl, you can see now what a 
narrow escape you have had. I only hope, for your sake, 
that the fellow has not been tampering with your fortune. 
You must not stay here after to-morrow. The place will 
be simply besieged by newspaper reporters and interview- 
ers. I must find some house for you ” 

“You need not trouble about that, Mr. Masefield,” 
Serena said. “ There is one house where both of us will 
be welcomed with open arms. Need I say that I am allud- 
ing to Lady Barmouth’s? ” 

Jack gave a sigh of relief ; for the moment he had quite 
forgotten Lady Barmouth. At any rate, for to-night Claire 
and Serena could stay where they were, and they could go 
to Lady Barmouth’s in the morning. Then Jack remem- 


The Yellow Face 


338 

bered all that Serena had gone through, and warmly con- 
gratulated her upon the recovery of her boy. 

“It means all the world to me,” Serena cried. “It 
fell out exactly as Miss Helmsley said it would. When 
that man called to see Mr. Anstruther again, I told him 
who I was, and he took me to my child at once. The 
stranger had been very kind to the lad. He knew nothing 
of the rascality and villainy behind it all, and he was only 
too glad to see mother and son united.” 

“And Padini?” Jack suggested. “You must not 
forget ” 

“ I want to forget everything about him,” Serena cried. 
“ I shall be glad, really glad, to know that that man is 
outside the power of doing mischief for the next three 
years. Do not ask me anything else — do not ask me, for 
instance, why I was playing the deaf-mute that night at 
Carrington’s rooms. I don’t know. I was a mere slave 
and tool in Anstruther’ s hands, and had to do exactly as 
he told me. It was only by the merest accident that I 
discovered how the trick of the music was done, and that 
I should have had to have kept to myself if my dear boy 
had not been so marvelously restored to me. Perhaps at 
some future time, I may be disposed to tell you more. 
For the present, all I want to do is to sleep. I am long- 
ing for that one night’s sweet repose which has been so 
cruelly denied to me the last few years.” 

Jack said no more. He left the house presently with 
the intention of seeing Rigby at once, and then of calling 
on Lady Barmouth the first thing in the morning, and 
making such arrangements as would conduce to the com- 
fort of Claire and Serena. 


CHAPTER XLVIII 


THE PROOF OF THE CAMERA 

Society generally had plenty to talk about in the way of 
scandal next morning, when it became known that Spencer 
Anstruther had been arrested in connection with the 
burglary of the City and Provincial Bank. The only paper 
giving anything like the account of the arrest, naturally, 
was the Planet , which paper vaguely hinted at further dis- 
closures in the early future. Jack read the account over 
the breakfast table, and smiled as he recognized the hand 
of Rigby in all this. He would see Rigby presently, and 
ascertain exactly what had taken place last night at the 
Great Metropolitan Hotel. First of all, he had to see 
Lady Barmouth, who had already heard something of the 
news. She listened with vivid interest to all that Jack 
had to say, then announced her intention of going to 
Panton Square at once. 

“I shall bring my sister and Claire here,” she said. 
“ They shall stay as long as they please. As to my sister 
and her boy, I shall be delighted to have them. I presume 
there will be some sort of proceedings against Anstruther 
this morning? ” 

To the great disappointment of the public, when An- 
struther came to be charged at Bow Street the evidence 
was purely formal. The prisoner had elected not to be 
represented by a lawyer, and, with a view of expediting 
the proceedings, had formally pleaded guilty to the charge, 
and asked to be committed to the Central Criminal Court, 
which took place a week from now. 

“Clever chap that,” Bates said, as he and Rigby, to- 
gether with Jack, turned into Covent Garden. “ Pretty 
cool, too. He wants to save time, of course, and get the 

339 


The Yellow Face 


340 

thing over before vve can complete our chain of evidence. 
But I fancy that by the end of a week we shall be able to 
produce all the witnesses we want.” 

“ I expect so,” Rigby said. “ By the way, don’t forget 
about that service of plate. Seymour says it ought to be 
conveyed to Scotland Yard and the photographs taken at 
once. I have a letter from Seymour in my pocket in 
which he asks me to go round and see Sir Frederick 
Ormond, induce that gentleman to take the sealed crystal 
ball to your headquarters, and to see that the seal is not 
broken, except in the presence of one of your leading of- 
ficials. Then you can get both sets of photographs done 
at once.” 

Bates had his hands full for the next few hours. Then, 
towards four o’clock, he made his way to Carrington’s 
flat. Under plea of indisposition, the latter had not been 
out for a day or so ; but, as a matter of fact, Bates had 
given him a pretty broad hint to keep clear of the bank 
premises, and to consider himself more or less as a prisoner 
on parole. Carrington’s knees knocked together, and his 
face turned deadly pale as Bates came into the room. 

“So you have come again,” he stammered. “ I hope, 
perhaps, that — don’t say I am your prisoner.” 

“I am afraid that’s what it comes to,” Bates said. 
“ We can’t let you Off altogether, you know. But you 
help us, and give us all the information in your power, 
and I’ll do my best to get you let off as lightly as possible. 
It makes all the difference between two years’ imprison- 
ment and seven years’ penal servitude.” 

“Am I to come with you now?” Carrington managed 
to stammer out. “ Is there no such thing as bail ? ” 

Bates shook his head. Carrington would have to pass 
the night, and doubtless a good many succeeding nights, 
in the police cells ; but, first of all, they were going as far 
as the bank. Bates explained that there was no reason, 
for the present, why Carrington should stand confessed as 
a prisoner. The bank officials need know nothing what- 
ever about it. What Carrington had to do now was to 
hand over the service of Cellini plate at present locked up 


The Proof of the Camera 


341 

in his private safe. The detective gave his promise that 
the plate in question should be restored to its proper owner 
in due course, though he refused to gratify Carrington’s 
curiosity as to why he had specially selected this particu- 
lar art treasure. 

An hour later the Cellini plate was safe in Bow Street, 
together with the crystal globe ; and before the week was 
out both articles had undergone some mysterious process 
of photography, not altogether unconnected with sheets of 
glass. Meanwhile, Anstruther was preparing his defense 
as best he could, and Carrington had been twice remanded 
on a charge of fraudulently dealing with the property of his 
clients. The two cases excited the greatest interest, and 
on the following Monday morning the Central Criminal 
Court was packed with society people eager to hear the 
charges against Spencer Anstruther. 

Anstruther stood there, quite calm and collected, with 
just the touch of a cynical smile on his lips. He looked 
round the court as if in search of acquaintances, but no 
one responded. Many people whom he knew quite well 
affected to look over his head. But cool and deliberate as 
he was, Anstruther had all his work cut out to keep his 
feelings in control when the barrister who represented the 
Crown proceeded to call witnesses. The name of Seymour 
resounded down the corridor, and a tall man with his face 
muffled up and a slouch hat on his head stepped into the 
box. He bowed gravely to the judge, and apologized for 
wearing his hat. A moment later his hat and coat slipped 
away, and he turned his face half defiantly to the light. 
There was an instant’s breathless pause, then a veritable 
shout of astonishment, as the Nostalgo of the posters stood 
face to face with those whose curiosity had been so deeply 
touched during the past four months. 

“ My name is Seymour,” he said quietly, as if quite un- 
conscious of the tremendous sensation his appearance had 
excited. “I have known the prisoner for some years. 
Before I unfortunately made his acquaintance, I was not 
the human wreck you see now, but a man like my fellows. 
But I need not go into that. What I propose to do now 


342 The Yellow Face 

is to tell the story of the burglary at the City and Provin- 
cial Bank. 

“Previous to my visit to Mexico, I occupied with Mr. 
Carrington the rooms which are now his. I have in my 
pocket a latch-key which opens the front door. It matters 
little now why I wanted to make a search of Mr. Carring- 
ton’s rooms, but I did make that search, and I was hidden 
in the conservatory behind the smoking-room with Mr. 
John Masefield on the night that the prisoner and Carring- 
ton planned the sham burglary at the bank. The whole 
scheme was revealed to us, and I shall be prepared to tell 
the jury presently what steps I took to see the so-called 
burglary carried out. It is sufficient for the present to say 
that it was carried out, and that I witnessed the whole pro- 
ceedings in the company of Mr. Masefield and a journalist 
on the staff of the Planet , Mr. Rigby by name. 

“ I should like, at this point, to call the attention of the 
jury to what we saw when the bank strong room was 
forced. So far as valuables are concerned, the safe was 
practically empty, save for a service of Cellini silver plate. 
Other witnesses beside myself will tell you that the prisoner 
claimed that plate as a reward for the ingenious way in 
which he had plotted to preserve Carrington’s reputation. 
When I heard this, a sudden inspiration came to me. 
With a piece of greasy rag I hastily smeared the surface of 
the set of plate. I will come to my reason for doing that 
presently. When the whole affair had been finished, the 
prisoner was half minded to take the service of plate back 
with him at once to his house in Panton Square. But 
Carrington dissuaded him from this on the grounds of 
prudence. Therefore the prisoner carried the plate up- 
stairs and deposited it in Carrington’s private safe. There 
it remained for a day or two, pending some way of con- 
veying it to Panton Square. 

“But in the meanwhile something happened which 
aroused the prisoner’s suspicions. He made up his mind 
that he would himself remove the plate from Carrington’s 
safe by means of another burglary. Carrington refused to 
have anything to do with this, but the prisoner got his own 


The Proof of the Camera 


343 


way by the simple expedient of stealing Carrington’s keys. 
The prisoner is more or less intimately acquainted with 
some of the cleverest thieves and housebreakers in Lon- 
don. There was no time to call in an honest expert to 
open Carrington’s safe, but the prisoner was equal to the 
occasion. He called upon a well-known housebreaker who 
passes by the name of ‘Simple Charlie.’ I know this, 
because for some time I have been watching the man in 
the dock. I have my own reasons for keeping quiet and 
living in an out-of-the-way place, and I have a set of 
rooms fitted up in what is more or less a common lodging 
house. 

“By good fortune the man known as ‘Simple Charlie* 
had rooms in the same block of buildings. When the 
prisoner called upon him the housebreaker was out, so 
that a note was left for him. This note I managed to get 
hold of and read. Together with a friend of mine named 
Ferris, we laid a little plot for ‘Simple Charlie.* We 
compelled him to find a substitute who would operate upon 
the safe, and that substitute was no other than Inspector 
Bates, as doubtless he will tell you later on.” 

It must be clearly understood that Seymour did not 
stand in the box and reel off his evidence in the glib way 
of one who is making a speech for the prosecution. On 
the contrary, the fascinating evidence he gave was in re- 
ply to questions asked by the representative of the Crown, 
occasionally supplemented by a query or two from the 
judge. All this time Anstruther stood in the dock, his 
face knitted in an ugly frown. Despite his easy air, his 
confidence was fast deserting him. Any other man would 
have been crushed and broken by the deadly weight of a 
testimony like that of Seymour’s. In his heart of hearts 
Anstruther was sick and frightened. Never for a moment 
had he dreamed of anything like this. Seymour stood 
before him without a trace of expression on his scarred, 
repulsive face. And yet every word he uttered was as an- 
other month on the long sentence he was already antici- 
pating. 

Anstruther came out of a dream presently, and realized 


344 


The Yellow Face 


with a start that Seymour’s deadly revelations were still 
going on. A moment later, and the Crown Counsel sug- 
gested that Seymour should stand down for a moment, and 
that Bates should take his place. The detective came into 
the box alert and smiling. He told how he had imper- 
sonated the mythical Maggs, and how he had accompanied 
Anstruther to the City and Provincial Bank. 

“ At this point I should like to ask you a few questions,” 
said Counsel for the Crown. “I understand that you 
have become possessed of the service of silver plate to 
which the last witness has already alluded. He spoke just 
now of some device of his whereby the service of plate 
was smeared with grease as it lay on the floor of the vault, 
and before it was conveyed to Carrington’s safe. Now, 
has this any important bearing on the case ? ” 

“I think you will find that it has an exceedingly im- 
portant bearing on the case,” Bates said. “You will 
remember, sir, that Mr. Seymour made a special request 
that the plate should be carefully photographed. You 
will remember, also, that the prisoner himself carried the 
plate to the safe and deposited it inside. We have had 
the plate carefully photographed, with a view to identifica- 
tion by means of finger marks. That is what we call a 
part of the Bertillon system. But, perhaps, I had better 
explain.” 

Bates’s explanation was carefully followed by an almost 
breathless audience. Bates held up a sheet of glass in his 
hand. 

“I have here,” he said, “ a photograph taken from a 
silver cigar case. It is the considerably enlarged impres- 
sion of finger prints left on the cigar case by a burglar 
who was scared away before he could secure his booty. 
By comparison of this impression from the cigar case side 
by side with one of the other permanent prints at Scot- 
land Yard we were enabled to identify and convict the 
thief.” 

“Quite so,” the barrister said. “The jury follows 
you. Is it your intention to prove that on the Cellini plate 


The Proof of the Camera 345 

marks have been found corresponding with the lines on 
the prisoner’s hand ? ” 

“ This is preposterous,” Anstruther cried. “ It is noth- 
ing less than a vile conspiracy. I defy the police to be 
able to prove that the marks of my fingers are on the 
plate. And even if there was more resemblance discov- 
ered it would be out of the question for the police to com- 
pare them with any impression of my own.” 

“You are doing no good to your case,” the judge in- 
terposed. “You will have plenty of opportunity to ask 
questions later on.” 

“With the permission of the jury I shall prove that,” 
Bates said. “ Before I proceed any further, may I ask 
your lordship if you will have Sir Frederick Ormond 
called ? Sir Frederick will recollect the night of Lady 
Barmouth’s dance, when one of the guests, disguised as 
a magician, gave him a sealed packet to take care of. 
When that packet came to be unsealed and photographed 
by our experts, we had no difficulty in discovering ” 

A deep groan broke from Anstruther’s lips. 

“By Heaven!” he cried. “ I had forgotten the 
crystal ! ” 


CHAPTER XLIX 


PROOF POSITIVE 

Anstruther’s denunciation of himself rang out loud 
and clear, so that it was heard to the uttermost parts of the 
court. Nothing could have condemned him more than 
that speaking cry ; there was wanted no witness more 
damning than his white face and staring eyes. In sooth, 
he had quite forgotten the crystal globe. It all came back 
to him now, and he saw vividly and clearly the semi- 
comedy which had been enacted at Lady Barmouth’s 
dance by himself and the so-called magician. To a man 
of Anstruther’s capabilities, the idea that he had walked 
headlong into a trap laid for him was maddening. He had 
devised so many cunning schemes for the lowering of 
others into confessions of crime, that it was all the more 
galling to find himself hoist with his own petard. 

It was in vain that he strove to recover the ground he 
had lost. He could see a grim smile on the face of the 
judge, and even the suggestion of amusement in the jury 
box. He seemed as if about to burst into passionate pro- 
test, then placed his hands upon his lips, and maintained 
instead a stolid silence. 

“ Perhaps I had better make a little explanation here,” 
Counsel for the Prosecution said. “A great deal turns 
on the matter of this crystal ball. The witness Seymour 
has already explained to the court the story of the Cellini 
plate up to a certain point. That story we shall sub- 
stantiate presently by calling the witnesses Masefield and 
Rigby. Your lordship will understand that Lady Bar- 
mouth’s now historic dance took place subsequent to the 
robbery at the City and Provincial Bank. The witness 
Seymour has already told you that he overheard the whole 
conspiracy between the prisoner and Carrington, by 

346 


Proof Positive 


347 

means of which the public would have been deluded into 
believing that a great robbery had taken place. The wit- 
ness Seymour has also informed you that he had meant to 
be present when this bogus burglary took place — an event 
that subsequently happened. It was only when the Cellini 
plate lay outside the bank strong room that the most 
ingenious idea occurred to Seymour. 

“ He has told us how, by means of a greasy rag, he 
smeared over the service of plate, which was subsequently 
placed by Anstruther’s own hand in Carrington’s safe. 
Beyond all question, the imprints of Anstruther’s fingers 
must have remained on the plate ; indeed, we shall prove 
this beyond question before long. By way of making the 
thing absolutely certain, it was necessary to get a proper 
impression of Anstruther’s hands. Hence the comedy of 
the magician — a little comedy which shall be explained 
later — which character was quite easily carried out at a 
fancy dance like Lady Barmouth’s. I am aware, my 
lord, that my proceeding is a little irregular, but I want to 
clear the thing up as I go along. If the prisoner has any 
objection, I will, of course, conduct my case ” 

“ The prisoner has no objection whatever,” Anstruther 
growled. “ I say the whole thing is a conspiracy, and a 
rascally one at that.” 

“The proceedings are somewhat irregular,” the judge 
interposed, “but seeing that the prisoner declines to be 
legally represented ” 

Anstruther shrugged his shoulders, and the Prosecuting 
Counsel went on. He had little more to say on the 
present head. He now proposed to call Sir Frederick 
Ormond. 

The popular young statesman stepped into the witness- 
box with a jaunty air, and a smile which suggested amuse- 
ment ; in fact, he seemed to regard the whole thing in the 
light of a very good joke. 

“I want you, Sir Frederick,” the Crown lawyer went 
on, “to tell us exactly what happened in regard to this 
magician business at Lady Barmouth’s house the other 
night.” 


The Yellow Face 


348 

“Really, there is very little to tell you,” Ormond 
smiled. “I regarded it as all part of the fun. I was 
sitting close to the table occupied by the prisoner and the 
mysterious magician ; in fact, I regarded the whole thing 
as a pure piece of comedy got up between those gentlemen 
to amuse the guests.” 

“ You had no notion of the magician’s name, then ? ” 
the lawyer asked. “You were not taken into the 
secret ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, dear no. It seemed to me to be a very clever 
piece of acting. I must confess I was just a little im- 
pressed when the crystal was placed in the box, after 
being firmly held by the prisoner for a few moments. 
The magician asked for the box to be sealed, which was 
done, and the thing subsequently passed into my pos- 
session.” 

“Stop one moment,” Anstruther cried. “That box 
was sealed up and taken away by you. Nobody else 
touched it? ” 

The witness explained that nobody handled the box 
besides himself until Inspector Bates fetched it away under 
an authority from Scotland Yard. Sir Frederick went on 
to explain that he had been present when the seal of the 
box was broken. 

“ Nobody could tamper with it during the time you had , 
it, I suppose?” Anstruther asked. “You kept it under 
lock and key ? ’ ’ 

“ The whole time,” the witness cried. “ You must un- 
derstand that I am quite used to keeping valuable docu- 
ments and that kind of thing. I took that box straight 
home, and locked it securely away in a drawer in my safe, 
where it remained until the police fetched it.” 

Asked if he had any further questions to put, Anstruther 
sullenly declined. He still harped upon the string that 
this was a criminal conspiracy got up against him by the 
police, and insinuated that the mysterious magician was 
nothing else than a detective smuggled into Lady Bar- 
mouth’s house for the purpose of trapping him. 

“ I think it would be as well, my lord, to sweep away 


Proof Positive 


349 


this impression at once,” the Crown Counsel exclaimed. 
“ I propose to put the magician in the box without delay.” 

Anstruther stared open-mouthed as Seymour once more 
came forward. The prisoner’s quick intellect saw the 
whole scheme quite clearly now. Pressed as he was, 
and in danger as he was, he had just a touch of a grim 
smile of approval. It was a trap entirely after his own 
heart. Yet his eyes held a menace as they met those of 
Seymour. The latter returned the gaze. There was a 
merciless gleam in his own pupils as he faced the jury box. 

‘ ‘ Here we have the mysterious magician,” the Crown 
Counsel explained. “Perhaps you will tell us how you 
came to think of this thing. A mere outline will do.” 

“ It came to me when I was watching those men in the 
vaults of the bank,” Seymour explained in his deep, ring- 
ing voice. “I am very much interested in crime and 
criminals, and more than interested in the prisoner at the 
bar. I cannot forget — I shall never forget — the fact that, 
but for him, I should be as other men. To be revenged 
on him, and to expose one of the greatest scoundrels 
the world has ever seen, I came back to England. I 
found the prisoner a popular figure in society. I dis- 
covered that my task would be no easy one. I had, 
moreover, to be careful — my face is one that it is not easy 
to disguise. From the very first good fortune was on my 
side. I made one discovery after another — all tending to 
the discredit of the prisoner at the bar. I have already 
explained to the court how I became in a position to over- 
hear the conspiracy that led to the robbery of the bank. 
Other witnesses will tell you in greater detail what hap- 
pened that night at the bank. It was only when I heard 
the prisoner coolly arranging to appropriate that magnifi- 
cent service of plate that my idea occurred to me. I was 
going to prove that the plate had been through Anstruther’s 
hands. Of course, I am quite familiar with the Bertillon 
system, and here was a chance of putting it into practice. 
I hastily smeared the silver with grease, in order that the 
marks should be all the more distinct.” 

“ What does all this acting lead to?” Anstruther cried. 


350 


The Yellow Face 


“I am just coming to that,” Seymour said quietly. 
“ I knew that when the plate came to be photographed by 
the police, the finger prints would show quite clearly on 
the glass slide. It is necessary to have a corresponding 
set of prints, hence my idea of the magician and the 
crystal ball. As a matter of fact, Lord Barmouth is a 
great friend of mine ; indeed, we have suffered a lot at 
the hands of the prisoner. It was, therefore, not difficult 
for me to procure an invitation to Lady Barmouth’s dance, 
which I attended in the dress of a magician. I was the 
magician. I arranged the plan myself, and I obtained 
the impression of those finger tips, which will show pres- 
ently, when they are compared with those taken from the 
set of Cellini plate. I have nothing more to say for the 
present.” 

Anstruther intimated that he had no questions to ask 
the witness. He had come into court prepared to take 
advantage of anything in his favor, trusting to his in- 
telligence and audacity to pull him through. But not for 
a moment had he guessed how strong a case the police 
had piled up against him. Not that he gave the police 
any credit for the business at all. He could see quite 
clearly that they would have done nothing without the aid 
of Seymour. Had the latter not taken in hand the mat- 
ter, the police would never have discovered his connection 
with the bogus burglary; and, however much Carrington 
might subsequently have suffered, the main rogue in the 
play would have gone off scot free. 

It was a dramatic story that Seymour had told the 
court, and every word that he had said was followed with 
the most rapt attention. The sensation of seeing Nostalgo 
in the flesh would have been enough for most people, but 
when one of the most mysterious personages that had ever 
excited the attention of London stood up like this, the 
central figure of a great crime, the excitement was multi- 
plied a hundredfold. 

There was a pause here, and the lawyer of the Crown 
looked significantly at Bates. The latter rose, and pro- 
duced a cardboard box and something that looked like an 


Proof Positive 


35 * 


exaggerated camera. There -was a breathless pause, for 
everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation. Even the 
judge leaned forward eagerly, wondering what was going to 
happen next. 

“ We are going to prove the identification of the finger 
marks,” the lawyer explained. “For this purpose we 
shall have to darken the court, and throw the photographs 
on a large sheet which has been pinned to the wall at the 
back of the building. I trust your lordship will have no 
objection to this course.” 

The judge was understood to say that he objected to 
nothing calculated to further the ends of justice. The 
fashionable audience thrilled. Society settled down to the 
knowledge that it was going to have a new sensation. 
Ladies ceased the rustling of their fans, and the whisper- 
ing and giggling stopped, for here was a drama far more 
realistic and terrible than anything ever seen upon the 
stage. A man’s future literally hung upon the fair white 
cloth suspended from the wall at the end of the court. 

The lights went out one by one, until there was nothing 
left but the pallid flame of the lantern lamp, which faintly 
picked out the eager eyes and parted lips of the excited 
spectators. Then the lamp vanished, and almost imme- 
diately a brilliant disc of light was thrown on the white 
sheet. In the long lane of flame the little motes of dust 
and fluff danced and flickered. Here and there, as a 
hand or an arm went up from those at the back of the 
lantern, ghostly accusing shadows seemed to flit. Out of 
the darkness the voice of the Crown Counsel came with a 
startling suddenness. 

“ In the first instance,” he said, “ we propose to throw 
on the screen the magnified photograph of certain finger 
impressions taken from the Cellini plate. These photo- 
graphs were made at Scotland Yard, and developed by 
the expert who is now assisting us in this matter. Here, 
my lord, and gentlemen of the jury, is the first of the 
magnified photographs. ’ ’ 

The great white shining disc disappeared as if by magic 
for a moment, and then upon it there stood out a wonder- 


3J 2 


The Yellow Face 


ful reproduction of the right and left palms and finger tips 
of a human hand. Magnified so largely, every line and 
scar and little filament could be seen. It was as if some 
painstaking engraver had worked up the whole thing under 
a powerful microscope. 

“There we have the impression of the prisoner’s hands 
as taken from the Cellini plate,” the lawyer went on. 
‘ £ If we are wrong, it is for the prisoner to prove it. But 
to make matters absolutely certain, the next plate will 
show the same finger prints as taken from the crystal ball. 
We know from the highest authority that the crystal ball 
was last in the hands of the prisoner.” 

The photograph vanished, the great white disc shone 
out again, and once more it was obscured by an almost 
precisely similar photograph. It would have been an ex- 
pert, indeed, who could have found out any dissimilarity 
between the two pictures. 

“ And now, to make matters doubly sure,” the lawyer 
said, “ we propose to reproduce the two photographs 
superimposed one on the top of the other.” 

Another exciting moment followed, a pause of almost 
painful interest ; and then the two slides were placed in 
the lantern at once. They stood out on the sheet, just a 
shade misty and indistinct, like a badly printed picture ; 
but the veriest novice there could see at once for himself 
that they were the same hands. As suddenly as it had 
vanished the lights flashed up again, and every eye was 
turned upon Anstruther’s white and rigid face. 

“My lord,” he said, in a hoarse, strained voice, “with 
your permission, I should like it adjourned until to-mor- 
row. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER L 


ON THE BRINK 

It was quite evident that the strong man was breaking 
down under the strain of these damning proofs. He 
would, apparently, have said more if he could, but his lips 
were dry, and the back of his throat appeared to have 
turned to ashes. With a shaking hand he lifted the glass 
of water which had been placed on a little ledge before 
him, and drank it down eagerly. 

u What object do you expect to gain by this course ? ” 
the judge asked. “ If you have any witnesses to 
call ” 

Anstruther intimated that he had. The eager audience 
appeared to be disappointed. It was as if they had just 
witnessed the first act of a powerful drama which had 
ended abruptly owing to some unforeseen circumstance. 
Still, the prisoner was likely to have his own way over this, 
seeing that he was undefended by counsel; indeed, 
it was only fair that no obstacle should be put in his way. 

“Very well, then,” the judge said briefly. “ The case 
is adjourned till ten o’clock to-morrow morning.” 

Five minutes later the court was deserted, and another 
judge was listening to some prosaic case of no importance 
whatever. Seymour had made his way rapidly out of 
court, followed by a curious crowd. He was quite calm 
and collected, though he had taken the precaution to hide 
his features as much as possible. Jack and Rigby caught 
him just at the moment that he was entering his cab. 

“ Where are you going to? ” the latter said. “ I have 
got a thousand questions to ask you. Don’t run away like 
this.” 

“I wasn’t going anywhere in particular,” Seymour ex- 
plained. “I have nothing to do but to kill time. It 

353 


354 


The Yellow Face 


seems to me that I have very little more to do in the way 
of ridding the world of Mr. Spencer Anstruther. Call it 
unchristian if you like, but there is a feeling deep in my 
heart that I shall be able to rest in future without the wild 
desire of always being at that fellow’s throat. I don’t 
think they will want me to-morrow morning.” 

“What do you suppose Anstruther is up to?” Jack 
asked. 

“ Suicide,” said Seymour curtly. “I know that man 
far better than either of you. And if this verdict goes 
against him to-morrow — as assuredly it will — he will find 
some way of putting an end to his life.” 

Jack look significantly at Rigby, who nodded. 

“Come round to my rooms,” he suggested, “and let 
us talk this matter over. And now that you have once 
appeared in public, and now that you have once told 
part of your story in the witness-box, you might, at least, 
disclose the rest of it to two sympathetic friends like our- 
selves.” 

Just for a moment Seymour seemed to hesitate. 

“Very well,” he said. “If you don’t get it from me 
you will from Lord Barmouth. If it had not been for 
Ferris and your discovery of him at the Great Metro- 
politan Hotel, nothing would have induced me to say a 
word. But I have more than a hope now that before long 
I shall stand before the world a changed man, and be 
able to take my place amongst my fellow creatures 
without being the subject of vulgar and idle curiosity. I 
will tell you everything when we get as far as your 
rooms.” 

It was over a whiskey and soda and a cigar that Sey- 
mour proceeded to tell his story. Both Jack and Rigby 
had heard the best part of it before. They knew all about 
the Mexican tribe and the dangers of the gold belt, but 
the cream of the mystery to them was the way in which a 
man of ordinary appearance could be transformed into so 
repulsive an object. 

“The whole thing,” said Seymour, as he approached 
the most fascinating part of his narrative, “was the way 


On the Brink 


355 

in which those people revenged themselves upon outsiders 
who had the temerity to invade the region of the gold belt. 
Mind you, they were a powerful tribe, and in some remote 
age or other had evidently been highly civilized. At the 
time Ferris and Barmouth and myself had the misfortune 
to find ourselves prisoners in their hands, they were abso- 
lutely eaten up with priestcraft. As I think I told you be- 
fore, the most powerful man in the tribe was not a native 
at all, but an Englishman. You will not be surprised to 
hear that the Englishman’s name was Anstruther. I did 
not know then as I know now what that man had gone 
through to learn the secret of where the great masses of 
gold were hidden. Interrupting my narrative for a mo- 
ment — have either of you ever noticed a faint resemblance 
between Anstruther and any other Nostalgo like myself? ” 

“I have,” Jack cried. “Especially in moments of 
passion.” 

“That I can quite easily understand,” Seymour went 
on. “When Anstruther first fell into the hands of those 
people he was served in exactly the same way as I was 
served myself ; in other words, one of those diabolically 
clever surgeons in the tribe turned him into a Nostalgo. 
Don’t ask me how it is done ; don’t ask me to explain how 
the muscles are cut and knotted and twisted so as to give 
one the hideous deformity of face which is my curse at 
present. But Anstruther carried the same intolerable 
burden in his day. Why he was retained amongst the 
tribe ; why he was not sent out into the world as an ex- 
ample to others, is not for me to say. Perhaps he made 
himself useful, for he is a clever man. Perhaps they had 
need of his services. At any rate, the devilish surgeon 
who could make a man look like a hideous demon fully 
understood the art of restoring a face to its normal aspect.” 

“ But Ferris has discovered a surgeon who can do that,” 
Jack explained. “ He has already told us so.” 

“It is on Ferris’s little Frenchman that I mainly rely,” 
Seymour said. “ Otherwise, I should fade out of this 
business, and you would see me no more.” 

“There is one thing I cannot understand,” Rigby put 


The Yellow Face 


35 6 

in. “ Why did Anstruther cause all those posters to be 
placed on the principal hoardings of London ? ” 

“Because Ferris had escaped him,” Seymour explained. 
“You see, he wanted Ferris very badly. He could black- 
mail him, and hoped to go on doing so with impunity. 
But Ferris gave his tormentor the slip, and placed himself 
in the hands of that clever French surgeon. Once the 
cure was complete, Ferris could have passed Anstruther in 
the street without the least fear of being recognized. He 
had only to change his name, and the thing was done.” 

“But I don’t quite understand yet,” Jack said. 

“ Well, you see, Ferris is a very sensitive man, and 
cursed with a lively imagination. That was where An- 
struther’s wonderful intellect came in. He had lost his 
man, and w r as determined to find him once more. Hence 
those accusing posters, that were destined to meet Ferris’s 
eye at every turn, and so play upon his nerves that he 
would be glad to give himself up, and make the best terms 
he could. It was just the sort of scheme to appeal to An- 
struther, and I am quite sure that if Ferris had not met his 
friend the surgeon, the plan would have been brilliantly 
successful. And now, if you don’t mind, I should like to 
go as far as the Great Metropolitan Hotel and talk this 
matter over with Ferris. I am not in the least likely to be 
called to-morrow ; indeed, it seems to me that I have fin- 
ished my task so far as Anstruther is concerned. This 
being so, the sooner I place myself in the hands of the 
French surgeon the better. My word ! If you men could 
only understand the life I have led the past three years ! ” 

Seymour turned away, and hid his face for a moment. 
The other two could respect and understand his feelings, 
for a long pause followed. When Seymour paused again, 
he was more calm and collected. He pitched his cigar 
into the fireplace, and suggested calling a cab and going 
off to the Great Metropolitan Hotel at once. Ferris ap- 
peared only too glad to see them ; indeed, he was much 
better and more cheerful than he had been a night or two 
ago, when Fate had so strangely brought Jack and himself 
together. Most of the plaster had been removed from his 


On the Brink 


357 

face by this time, and, so far as his visitors could see, there 
were only the faintest traces that the knife had been used 
to remove the terrible brand of the Nostalgo scourge. 

“I expect to be out in two or three days,” Ferris ex- 
plained. “I shall walk the streets with all the more 
pleasure now that I know there is no chance of meeting 
Anstruther. I have just been reading an account of the 
trial in one of the evening papers.” 

Seymour grasped his old comrade’s hand, and drew 
him eagerly to the light. It was brilliant sunshine outside, 
so that the face of Ferris was picked out clearly. Despite 
his assumed calmness, there was a trembling anxiety in 
Seymour’s eyes. Long and earnestly did he gaze at the 
pale features of his friend. 

“ Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, I can hope at last. What 
a wonderful operator your surgeon must be. So far as I 
can see, you have no marks whatever, except here and 
there some star-shaped scars, which will vanish in the 
course of a few days. ’ ’ 

“They will be gone altogether at the end of a week,” 
Ferris said. “At least, so my doctor says.” 

“Amazing!” Seymour cried. “ Why, I myself have 
tried specialists in nearly every capital in Europe. Every 
one of them was utterly ignorant of how the thing had 
been brought about, and not a single operator of the lot 
could give me the faintest hope of my ever being any 
better ; and yet here you find a comparatively unknown 
man, who places his finger on the right spot at once. How 
did he manage it? ” 

“That is quite easily explained,” Ferris said. “You 
will not be surprised to hear that this Doctor Benin has 
led a life of adventure. He was out in Mexico four years 
ago with an exploring party, and accidentally came in con- 
tact with the same tribe that has cost us both so dear.” 

“Ah,” exclaimed Seymour. “ Now I begin to under- 
stand. Like the rest of us, Doctor Benin was after the 
gold. I presume he came under the ban of the tribe, who 
made a Nostalgo out of him, and turned him out as 
hideous as the rest of us.” 


The Yellow Face 


358 

“ You have guessed it exactly,” Ferris said gravely. 
“For over a year Benin was experimenting on the muscles 
of the face. He discovered, at length, that certain of 
these muscles had been drawn up by some ingenious 
process, and partially paralyzed. This it was that gave 
the face of every Nostalgo its peculiar hideous appearance. 
Benin discovered, at length, a means by which the tem- 
porary paralysis of the muscles could be removed, and a 
man’s normal expression restored to him. You know what 
I was at one time — look at me now ! I tell you that in a 
month from now you can be absolutely restored to the 
world, without people shuddering and turning away as 
they pass you in the street. The same remark applies to 
Lord Barmouth. Once Anstruther is out of the way, we 
shall come back to our own again, and know the meaning 
of happiness once more.” 

“I think that Barmouth ought to know this,” Jack 
said. “I have already told him about Mr. Ferris, and 
he is anxious for a meeting to be arranged. But I must 
go off now, and inform him how successful the operation 
has been.” 

Jack found Barmouth pacing up and down the study 
in no enviable frame of mind. On inquiry, it turned out 
that Anstruther had sent Barmouth a summons to appear 
at the trial the following morning and give evidence on his 
behalf. 

“ Of course, this is a mere act of simple spite,” he 
said. “ He merely wants to expose me to the gaze of the 
world, and thus spoil the rest of my miserable life for 
me ; but I shall go, I have quite made up my mind to 
that. At the same time, Anstruther will not realize his 
purpose. I shall take the precaution to practically hide 
my face with strips of sticking plaster, and let it be 
understood that I am suffering from the result of an 
accident.” 

Jack proceeded to turn the conversation in the direction 
of Doctor Benin. He could not complain that he lacked 
an interested listener. Barmouth would see Benin with- 
out delay ; indeed , he would call upon him after he had 


On the Brink 


359 


given evidence at the trial to-morrow. There would be 
no difficulty about this, Jack said, for Benin was pretty 
sure to attend the hearing in person. 

Jack’s prophecy was borne out next morning by the 
appearance of Benin in the well of the court. The first 
witness called was Barmouth; who, true to his promise, 
had disguised himself almost beyond recognition. As he 
stepped into the witness-box, Anstruther turned upon him 
savagely from the dock, and then the face of the latter, 
with the light upon it, was plainly visible to the little 
French doctor. Heedless of his surroundings, heedless 
of the solemnity of the occasion, the Frenchman jumped 
to his feet, and pointed a shaking finger in Anstruther’ s 
direction. 

“ Murderer, murderer ! ” he cried. “ Dog, is it you? ” 

Anstruther paused, and threw up his hands like a man 
who is shot. He fell back, a collapsed heap, on the floor 
of the dock. A warder rushed forward and raised the 
prostrate figure. 

“I think he is dead, my lord,” he said simply. 


CHAPTER LI 


AGAINST THE WORLD 

Anstruther lay there to all appearances quite dead. 
So swift and dramatic had the whole thing been, that 
nobody moved for a moment ; indeed, a greater portion 
of the excited audience did not seem to grasp what had 
happened. Rigby turned and looked at Benin, who was 
frowning in the direction of the dock, and breathing hard 
as if he had run fast and far. Then one of the warders 
in the court moved to the assistance of his colleague, and 
between them they raised the prisoner so that his hagged 
face appeared over the edge of the rail. With an as- 
sumption of indifference, the Frenchman dropped back 
into his seat again. 

“Surely he is not afraid of you,” Jack whispered. 
“And yet I feel quite certain that your appearance 
frightened him terribly.” 

“He has good need to be afraid of me,” Benin 
growled. “ I could hang that man — I could prove him 
guilty of murder. For, look : that man and myself have 
met in Paris. You have little notion of the extent of his 
crime. But he is not dead — men of that type do not die 
so easily. See, he is opening his eyes again.” 

Anstruther had struggled into an upright position, and 
was feebly gasping for water. He gave one half-fright- 
ened glance in the direction of the Frenchman, who 
shrugged his shoulders, as if to say the whole affair was no 
business of his. 

“ I shall not betray him,” he whispered to Rigby. “ It 
is a painful case, which will be no better for being 
dragged into the light of day. Besides, that man will be 
punished enough ; a long term of imprisonment will be 
360 


Against the World 361 

worse to him than hanging. He understands, now, that I 
am not going to betray him.” 

Anstruther was himself again at last. He stood rigid 
and erect ; there was the faint suggestion of a smile upon 
his face. 

“ Merely a passing weakness,” he murmured. “ I have 
to apologize to the court for the trouble I am giving. 
May I be allowed to make a statement ? ” 

“ It would have been far better if the statement had 
come through your counsel,” the judge said. “I warned 
you from the first that you were imperiling your position 
by refusing to accept legal aid. If the jury find you 
guilty ” 

‘‘The jury may find me guilty or not,” Anstruther said. 
“I am sufficiently strong a man to know when I am 
beaten. Therefore I do not propose to waste the time of 
the court by carrying my defense any further. I have 
assisted the police on many occasions; indeed, I have 
been a great help in bringing a number of notorious 
criminals to justice. But I pay the prosecution this com- 
pliment — never once in the whole course of my career 
have I worked out anything neater than the scheme which 
has placed me in my present position. I desire to plead 
guilty to the whole thing. I did conspire with Mr. Car- 
rington over that bank business, and with my own hands 
I removed the Cellini plate to the custody of Carrington’s 
private safe. I am not in the least penitent. I am not in 
the least sorry for myself. In the circumstances, I would 
act precisely the same again. You may do what you like 
with me, and pass any sentence you think fit. I don’t 
think there is any need for me to say more.” 

The speaker bowed gravely to the judge and resumed 
his seat, which he had asked for as a favor. Failing any 
reply on the part of the Crown Attorney, the judge began 
to sum up the case. He made no comment, but curtly 
and drily sentenced the prisoner to fourteen years’ penal 
servitude. The latter rose to his feet, and intimated that 
he was ready. With a firm step and the faint shadow of 
a cynical smile on his lips, he walked down the steps and 


The Yellow Face 


362 

thus disappeared forever from the society of his fellow 
men. The whole thing was over now, and the dramatic 
trial was finished. It was, perhaps, a fitting ending to a 
sensational case, which had been full of surprises from 
beginning to end. In spite of it all, Jack looked grave 
and somewhat anxious. Now that the affair was over, 
he could find it in his heart to have a little pity for An- 
struther. 

“ Why so grave and silent ? ” Rigby asked. 

“I think you understand,” Jack said quietly. “It 
always seems to me a sad thing to see a man of such 
brilliant talents in so degraded a situation. Anstruther 
might have done anything. With an intellect like his he 
might have climbed to the highest places. And yet he 
prefers deliberately to remain a criminal.” 

“The criminal instinct must have been always there,” 
Benin said. “ There are some men who cannot go 
straight, and your brilliant Anstruther is one of them.” 

The audience was pouring out of the court now, talking 
eagerly and excitedly of the events of the morning. Only 
a few people remained now, and, glancing indifferently 
over them, Jack noted the pale, anxious features of Car- 
rington. The man lingered behind, as if afraid to face 
the open air. He shrank back shaking and despairing as 
Bates walked over in his direction. 

“Very sorry, Mr. Carrington,” said the latter, “but 
my duty is quite clear before me. We had our own rea- 
sons for not placing you in the dock along with your 
friend, because we might have had to call you as a wit- 
ness. As I promised you, I will do all I can to let you 
down as easily as possible, but I hold a warrant for your 
arrest on the grounds of theft and conspiracy, and I am 
bound to execute it. You will be good enough to come 
this way, please.” 

The wretched man whined and whimpered. But there 
was nothing for it now but to follow the detective, and, so 
far as Carrington was concerned, the story is finished. 
By this time Jack and his companions were in the street. 
They lingered there chatting together, uncertain as to 


Against the World 363 

what to do next, when Benin proceeded to solve the prob- 
lem. He suggested the advisability of his having an in- 
terview with Lord Barmouth without delay. 

“You tell me his lordship has already heard of me,” 
he said. “ After my own experiences, I can imagine what 
his feelings have been the last few years. I want to see 
him at once, and convince him that within a month he will 
be free to stand before his fellow men, as Ferris will be 
within the next few days.” 

Barmouth had lost no time in leaving the court directly 
he discovered that there would be no occasion for him to 
enter the witness-box. 

When Jack and the others reached Belgrave Square, 
Barmouth had already removed the strips of plaster from 
his face, and was walking up and down his study with the 
restless air of one whose mind is ill at ease. All the same, 
he seemed to divine the cause of Benin’s presence, for he 
held out his hand and smiled gratefully. 

“ I know you come to me in the guise of a friend, Doc- 
tor Benin,” he said. “Is it too much to hope that you 
can cure me as you cured my friend Ferris ? ” 

“There is no doubt about it whatever,” the Frenchman 
said. “It is all a matter of an operation on the muscles 
of the face. You will be yourself again ; even that hor- 
rible yellow tinge will disappear from your skin. I should 
like, if possible, to operate upon Seymour and yourself at 
the same time. I dare say you have some quiet country 
place that we could go to ? ” 

There was more than one such retreat, as Barmouth pro- 
ceeded to explain. They talked over the matter eagerly 
and earnestly for some time, until a message arrived that 
Mr. Anstruther earnestly desired an interview with Lord 
Barmouth. The latter started and shook his head. He 
had no disposition whatever to see Anstruther again. But 
as he thought the matter over, kindlier thoughts prevailed. 
After all, the man was past all power of mischief, and de- 
spite the way in which he had carried himself off, must 
have felt his position most keenly. On the whole, Bar- 
mouth decided to go. 


The Yellow Face 


3 6 4 

He found Anstruther pacing up and down his roomy 
cell. The man looked haggard and drawn. Well as he 
had himself in hand, Anstruther’ s twitching lips betrayed 
his emotion. 

“ I dare say you wonder why I sent for you,” he said. 
“ You need not be afraid of me ; they have rendered me 
quite harmless. They have even taken away my watch 
and chain and money. Why they left me this little 
pearl-headed scarf pin I don’t know — probably they over- 
looked it. It is these little careless things which prevent 
the Force from being quite as efficient as it might be.” 

Anstruther smiled in a peculiar way as he spoke. But 
Barmouth did not appear to notice. Anstruther walked up 
and down the cell, talking freely as he went. 

“ It was exceedingly good of you to come,” he said, 
“ especially as I have done you so grievous a wrong. You 
will be perhaps pleased to hear that all the sufferings I un- 
derwent in Mexico were wasted. I never so much as laid 
my hand upon an ounce of the gold for which I risked my 
life ; indeed, at the end I just contrived to save my mere 
existence. When I sent for you to-day it was most sin- 
cerely to ask you to pardon me for all the harm that I 
have done to you and others. I was going to tell you in 
any case the means by which you could be restored to your 
normal appearance. If the case went against me to-day I 
had determined to write to you and give you the address 
of Doctor Benin. But when I saw him in court to-day I 
knew perfectly well that you and he had already met, and, 
therefore, there was no reason for me to say anything. 
You and I have always been antagonistic ; I do not bear 
you any ill will for that.” 

“And I can assure you that there is no ill will on my 
side,” Barmouth replied. “Mind you, I cannot forget 
all the sufferings that I have undergone at your hands. It 
is strange what men will do when the greed for gold is 
upon them, and how little good does it tend to when the 
gold comes. Only a few hours ago I was longing to meet 
you face to face under such conditions as would render 
your death a secret. I would have killed you like a dog, 


Against the World 365 

I always meant to kill you. When I was paying black- 
mail to you under a name other than my own I was ever 
plotting the opportunity which would have betrayed you 
into my hands. I should have deemed it no crime to have 
rid the world of a scoundrel like yourself. And yet, as 
God is my witness, when I see you here like this, an out- 
cast and a felon, when I think of the terrible way in which 
your great talents have been wasted, I have nothing but 
pity for your lamentable condition.” 

Anstruther took a step forward, the veins on his fore- 
head knotted, his hands were clenched in a paroxysm of 
passion. 

“ Don’t talk like that,” he said hoarsely. “ Don’t be- 
gin to pity me, or I shall fly out and strangle you. If 
there was no chance of you ever being anything but what 
you are — I mean so far as your personal appearance is con- 
cerned — I would willingly change places with you at this 
moment. And I was a Nostalgo myself, and know what 
the punishment means. But I did not bring you here to 
talk entirely about myself. I have felt for a long time 
that Jack Masefield has viewed me with suspicion. Per- 
haps he thinks I am unaware of his engagement to Claire. 
Why, I knew every movement of his. He will be sur- 
prised to hear that I knew he was in the cupboard near 
Padini’s room the time I was spying about there. What 
was I after? Well, Padini had certain papers of mine, 
and it was not policy to accuse him of the theft then. Just 
as if open-minded people like those could deceive me. I 
can quite forgive Masefield for his caution, but you can 
tell him that Claire’s fortune has suffered nothing at my 
hands. Not that I wish to take any credit for that ; it is 
merely that the other trustee, being a shrewd lawyer, was 
too clever for me. However, Claire has her two thousand 
a year intact, and she is free to marry Masefield when she 
likes. 

“There is another matter of which I wish to speak to 
you — that is, as regards Serena. I understand that she is 
Lady Barmouth’s sister. Well, I am glad of that, because 
the poor woman and her boy will have a happy home in 


The Yellow f ace 


366 

future. I behaved abominably to Serena : I lied to her, 
I tricked and tormented her, so that I might get her in my 
power, and make use of her wonderful talents as an act- 
ress. She believed that I held her life in the hollow of 
my hand, and therefore she was the veriest slave to my 
will. But nothing wrong, Barmouth ; Serena is as good 
and pure as your own wife. I understand that Padini has 
been arrested owing to his having taken a hand in that 
musical jugglery of mine. 

“For Serena’s sake he must be got rid of. All you 
have to do is to drop a line to the Director of Public 
Prosecutions in Paris, and say that Monsieur Lemarque is 
masquerading in London as" Padini, the violinist. After 
that I don’t think Serena will be troubled with her 
precious husband any more. And now 1 will not detain 
you any longer. If you will accept this pin as a souvenir 
I shall be glad. You see it is a small pearl on a gold 
wire. There is one peculiarity about it. The pearl is 
hollow, and it often occurred to me how useful it would 
be to conceal a drop or two of some virulent poison inside 
in case one fell into the hands of the authorities. ’ ’ 

Filled with a sudden suspicion, Barmouth darted for- 
ward. The faint mocking smile of Anstruther’s face told 
him as plainly as words could tell exactly what was going 
to happen. He reached forward and clutched Anstruther. 
It was too late. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Anstruther,” Barmouth cried. 
“Think; pause before you do anything so rash, so 
blasphemous.” 

“ It is very good of you,” Anstruther said quite coolly. 
“ I know you mean well, but this is the way I prefer my- 
self.” 

He placed the pearl within his lips, and crushed it with 
his teeth. 


CHAPTER LII 


THE END OF IT ALL 

Barmouth could see a little speck of foam like a white 
feather on the lips of his companion. He saw Anstruther 
throw up his head, and the apple of his throat moved as 
if in the act of swallowing. The whole thing had been so 
swift and unexpected, that Barmouth could not blame 
himself for what had happened. There was no occasion 
to tell him that the pearl had contained some deadly 
poison, for already the effect of it was apparent on An- 
struther* s features. He gasped painfully as if some ter- 
rible pain had gripped him by the heart, his features 
twitched horribly, yet he smiled with the air of a man 
who is by no means displeased with himself. 

“ Yes,” he said quite naturally, “ I think it will be just 
as well if you called in the warder who is watching us 
through that grating in the door, and tell him everything 
that has happened.*' 

Barmouth lost no time in doing so. There was a great 
tramping and commotion in the corridor outside, and 
presently Bates and the prison doctor rushed in. By this 
time Anstruther was seated on the only chair in the cell ; 
there was a heavy bead of moisture on his face. He 
smiled faintly at Bates. 

“ It is exactly as Lord Barmouth has said,” he ex- 
plained. “When your people deprived me of everything 
that I possessed they forgot to remove a tiny pearl-headed 
pin from my scarf. It was only a very small pearl — you 
could have bought the thing in any West-End shop for a 
sovereign ; but the gem was not so innocent as it appeared 
to be. Inside I had caused to be placed one spot of 
deadly poison no larger than a pin’s head. I have had it 
there for years in case of an emergency. I have always 
had a presentiment that sooner or later the end would be 

367 


The Yellow Face 


368 

thus, and I am much too active-minded a man to dare to 
pass years in jail. I should have gone mad under treat- 
ment like that. Therefore, you see I was quite ready for 
you. I had only to take that pin from my tie, and make 
the tiniest puncture in the tip of my tongue, then all I had 
to do was to crush the pearl within my teeth, and the thing 
was done. There need be no inquest; the poison in 
question was one spot from the fang of a cobra. See, the 
end is very near.” 

Anstruther staggered to his feet, threw his hands above 
his head, and collapsed in a heap on the floor. There 
was one fearful shuddering contortion of the muscles, and 
after that a rigid stillness. The prison doctor bent down, 
and examined the silent form carefully. He shook his 
head gravely. 

“ My services here are absolutely useless,” he said. 
“ The man is dead. I only wonder that he lived so long. 
It was a sad ending to what might have been a brilliant 
career.” 

“It was a brilliant career,” Bates muttered. “We 
never had a detective in the Force as clever as Mr. An- 
struther. Shall I call a cab for you, my lord ? There is 
nothing to gain by your waiting any longer.” 

Barmouth nodded in an abstracted kind of way; he 
hardly appeared to heed what Bates was saying. In the 
same dreamy fashion he was driven homewards. On 
reaching Belgrave Square he found that Benin had gone 
off on some business, leaving Jack and Rigby behind him. 
In a few words he told the others what had happened. 
There was nothing more to be said on the matter, and no 
great feeling was expressed, seeing that Anstruther had 
never been anything else but an enemy to all of them. 

“ He seemed desirous of making amends at the last,” 
Barmouth said. “For instance, he has shown us a way 
whereby my wife’s unfortunate sister can be forever free 
of Padini. Also he informed me that Miss Claire Helms- 
ley’s fortune is absolutely intact. He was cynical to the 
last, and suggested that Jack here should marry the lady 
of his choice without delay.” 


The End of It All 


3 6 9 

“That is very good of him,” Jack said drily. “But 
as far as I am concerned, I shall not be in the least sorry 
to hear that Claire has nothing. I do not want the sug- 
gestion made that I am in any way a fortune hunter. It 
is not a pleasant idea.” 

“ What is the good of talking that nonsense,” Rigby 
exclaimed. “ My dear fellow, you are getting on 
splendidly with your literary work, and in a year or so 
from now your income will be quite equal to Miss Helms- 
ley’s. Besides, nobody who knew you would think of ac- 
cusing you of fortune hunting. And so long as Miss 
Helmsley shares the opinions of your friends, I don’t see 
that it in the least matters to anybody else.” 

Lady Barmouth came into the room at the same moment 
with an intimation that Claire was up in the drawing- 
room, and would like to see Jack as soon as he was at 
liberty. Jack went off with alacrity. There was a sooth- 
ing feeling now that no obstacle any longer stood in his 
path. He had no fear of the future, so far as Claire was 
concerned, Anstruther being once out of the way. It was 
only at this moment, with the knowledge of a placid future 
before him, that Jack realized how great the mental strain 
had been. 

He found Claire waiting for him in the drawing-room. 
She advanced with a smile upon her face, and he took her 
in his arms and kissed her, feeling at last that she was his 
own, and that there was no shadow of further crime be- 
tween them. He was just a little grave and silent, and 
love’s quick eyes were there to detect the sombre shade on 
his face. Very quietly Jack told Claire all that had hap- 
pened. It was some little time before either spoke. 

“I am glad to find that your fortune is intact, my 
dearest girl,” Jack said. “I shall have to work hard 
now, so that when the good time comes I shall be able to 
marsy you, feeling that my position is equal to your own. 
It must not be said ” 

“ It is not going to be said,” Claire replied, looking up 
into her lover’s face with a winning smile. “ Jack dear, I 
know exactly what is running in that silly head of yours. 


37 ° 


The Yellow Face 


I can see I shall have to be very severe with you. Now 
answer me a question, sir,” 

“ A dozen if you like,” Jack replied. “ What is it? ” 

“ Well, about the time we first met, and you were so 
foolish as to fall in love with me. Confess it now : did 
not you regard me as a poor dependent of Mr. An- 
struther’s, without so much as a penny of my own ? I 
knew that you loved me long before you told me so — I 
felt it here at my heart. And yet when you asked me to 
be your wife, not so many weeks ago, and suggested we 
should keep the matter a secret as we were too poor to 
marry, you did not know then that I was an heiress in a 
small way.” 

“ I am prepared to admit it,” Jack said. “But you 
see, my darling, it is pretty certain that some people ” 

With a pretty little imperious gesture, Claire laid her 
hand on her lover’s lips. Her eyes looked sweetly into 
his. 

“I am not going to hear another word,” she cried. 
“Oh, what does it matter to anybody as long as we are 
satisfied. My dearest boy, do you want me to go down 
on my knees, and implore you to marry me ? I will do it 
if you like.” 

Jack’s reply was evidently suitable, and to the point, 
for the fond look came over Claire’s face again, and for 
some time they were silent. It was Claire who broke the 
silence at length. 

“ You need me,” she whispered. “We shall be none 
the less happy, because that dark cloud of poverty is not 
likely to dim our future. I have pictured to myself a 
dear little house in the country where we could have roses 
and trim lawns and old world gardens, and where you 
could work in a beautiful study lined with old oak and 
filled with blue china. I don’t mind telling you, Jack, 
that I have picked out the house, and my other guardian 
is now settling the purchase of it for me. Think how nice 
it would be to be able to sit down every morning with a 
contented mind, and not care whether you did one page 
or twenty, so long as you felt sure that you were doing 


The End of It All 


37 » 

nothing but your best work. I always think every author 
ought to have a fortune of his own, and thus be without 
the necessity of turning out his work by the yard, so to 
speak.” 

Claire might have said more, only she noted the dancing 
imp of mischief in Jack’s eyes. He kissed her tenderly 
again. 

“I had no idea I was going to have so practical a 
wife,” Jack said. “ But do not let us be altogether selfish ; 
let us give a thought or two to other people. There is 
not the slightest reason why the full significance of this 
Nostalgo business should ever be made public. And no 
more posters will appear; the public will marvel for a 
time and ask questions, then the thing will be forgotten 
when the next great sensation comes along. I will tell 
Rigby that he is to mention no names when he tells his 
wonderful story in the Planet — at least, he is not to 
mention the names of any of our friends. Now let us go 
down to the dining-room, and see what they have arranged. 
I am very anxious to know.” 

Meanwhile, all the arrangements had been completed by 
those most concerned. As Lord Barmouth explained, 
he had a very quiet country place in the neighborhood of 
Hindhead, and there the operation upon himself and 
Seymour was to take place. 

“I want Claire to come with me,” Lady Barmouth 
said. “Of course, Serena and her boy will be with us, 
and I understand that arrangements are being made to rid 
us finally of the attentions of Signor Padini. The place is 
near enough to London for Mr. Masefield to run down as 
often as he finds it possible. My dear Claire, you are 
looking so radiantly happy, that I need not ask you if you 
have settled matters with Jack.” 

“It was not an easy task,” Claire laughed and blushed, 
“ I almost had to go down on my knees to him. He said 
he would be accused of fortune hunting or something 
equally absurd.” 

“ I am exceedingly glad to hear of it,” Lady Barmouth 
said heartily. “ I have set my heart upon a little pro- 


The Yellow Face 


372 

gramme, and I hope you will allow me to carry it out. 
I want the marriage to take place from our house at 
Hindhead. Lord Barmouth will give you away, and we’ll 
make quite a society affair of it.” 

“But not till Lord Barmouth is quite right,” Claire 
said. ‘ ‘ Dear Lady Barmouth, you are too kind to me. 
Let me confess that I had hoped for something like this, 
but I did not intend to marry Jack till I could have all my 
good friends there. In perhaps three months’ time it may 
be possible that all this ” 

“Two months,” Lord Barmouth laughed. “Both my 
good friend Seymour here, and myself, will be perfectly 
Well by that time. I have thought it all out, and there 
need not be any gossip at all. It will be merely an- 
nounced in the society papers that I have recovered from 
the painful malady which has so long afflicted me, and 
there will be an end of the matter. We are all going 
down to Hindhead to-morrow, and the operation takes 
place on Saturday. According to what Dr. Benin said, it 
is a mere matter of a fortnight in bed, and at the end of a 
month we shall be quite like other people. Now let us 
have dinner in the study without the servants. It will be 
quite pleasant to wait upon ourselves.” 

Very quietly and unostentatiously the little party set 
out for Hindhead the following day. Not even the serv- 
ants knew what was in the wind ; they merely gathered 
that Lord Barmouth was never really well, and that he 
was taking an invalid friend with him. Dr. Benin’s 
arrival caused no sensation, the household staff being 
informed that a clever surgeon had come from Paris, who 
hoped to restore their master to a normal state of health. 

It was a fortnight later that Barmouth and Seymour 
came down-stairs looking a little drawn and white, but 
otherwise exactly like two ordinary men who had just re- 
covered from some commonplace illness. Serena was 
there with her boy, but not the Serena of old. Years 
seemed to have fallen from her shoulders, there was a color 
in her face, and a sparkle in her eyes which fairly 
astonished Jack when he saw her. He pressed her hand 


The End of It All 


373 

silently, saying no word, and Serena understood him more 
thoroughly than if he had been gifted with the finest 
eloquence in the world. 

It was all ended and done with at last ; the organ had 
pealed out its triumphal march, the cherry-cheeked chil- 
dren had cast their last handful of flowers at the feet of the 
happy bride, the wedding was over, and now the carriage 
stood at the door. Claire recollected it all clearly after- 
wards, but at the moment she felt like one who dreans 
pleasant things. It was only when the prosaic banging of 
the railway carriage door struck upon her ears that she 
came entirely to herself again. The train was speeding 
through the peaceful landscape, Claire leaned her head 
tenderly on Jack’s shoulder, and a sigh of happiness 
escaped her. 

“ What is that sigh for? ” Jack asked tenderly. 

“Peace and happiness,” Claire cried. There was just 
a suggestion of tears in her eyes. “ It seems so strange 
to be with you like this, and yet only the other day — 
but I will not think of that. We will say no more about 
the dark days, but dwell entirely with the happy hours to 
come.” 

Jack bent and kissed the quivering red lips. Then a 
great content came into their hearts, and they were silent. 


THE END 


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i Children of the Gods 

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On. th© Heights of 
HimiSay 

By A. VAN DER NAILLEN i2mo f Cloth , Illustrated, $1.25 

T HE author of this book, who' is well known both as an educator and a 
scientist, has been a resident of this city for over thirty years, and during 
that time has won more than local renown as an investigator and elucidator 
of abstruse scientific problems, and also world-wide recognition as an enthusiastic, 
ardent and conscientious student of those mysterious forces, the manifestation of 
and belief in which are covered by the generic name of “Occultism.” 

Professor Van der Naillen has written several books on this always interesting 
subject, each of which has been appreciatively received both in this country and 
in Europe. “On the Heights of Himalay,” now in hand, has already reached 
the sixth edition in English, and the demand for foreign translations keeps pace 
with its popularity in America and England. 

This book is written in narrative form, a study of love, renunciation and spiritual 
triumph forming its thread of plot, but its motive is to give the reader tangible 
ideas of Oriental mysticisms, and of the subtle forces of nature and the possibilities 
that are in the power of those who learn rightly to control them and themselves. 

— — , San Francisco Examiner . 

In the S©cncfU0Lry 

By A. VAN DER NAILLEN l2mo , Cloth , Illustrated , $1.25 

T HE work appeals to seekers after light in theosophic thought. It is 
written in exceptionally expressive English, and the impressions of occult- 
ism are so clearly conveyed as to give the lay reader a tangible idea of 
Oriental mysticism and the subtle forces of nature so difficult to understand 
from ordinary texts on the subject. 

Balthazar the M©Lg\is 

By A. VAN DER NAILLEN i2mo , Cloth, Illustrated , $1.50 

T HIS is the third volume of a series from the pen of A. Van der Naillen, 
dealing with certain principles not generally understood, but looking toward 
the unifying of the highest religion and the highest science. The other 
volumes preceding this were, respectively, ‘On the Heights of Himalay’ 
and ‘In the Sanctuary.’ 

“In the latter the life of hero, Marins, was followed to the attainment of a 
degree of knowledge that gave him the highest degree in the Order of the Magi, 
that of Magus. In the present story his work in the uplifting of his fellow 
mortals by teaching them how to obtain the same advancement is described. Be- 
side himself, the two principal characters are a young priest of the Roman Catholic 
church, and a beautiful woman, grown weary of society, both of whom seek him 
to be shown the way to the higher life. The two meet, learn to love each other, 
but are convinced by the Magus that their path of duty lies in the renunciation of 
what seems to be necessary to their happiness. This is the key to the story, the 
Utter being really only the form taken to present a philosophy of the higher life.’* 




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